


In For a Penny

by Cdelphiki



Series: In For a Pound [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adopted Children, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Angst, Baby Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Dealing with Damian's origin, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Parenthood, That tag is hilarious I have to use it, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2019-10-17 10:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 60,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cdelphiki/pseuds/Cdelphiki
Summary: 25 is too young to be a Dad.  That's what Bruce thought when Talia dropped off this baby she claimed was his.  Add to that a jealous 11-year-old Dick, and Bruce has his hands full.   What does one even do with a baby?  Why does this baby scowl so much?  And when on earth is Talia coming back?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: reference to past rape. The aftermath of it will be a bit of a theme in the first few chapters, and a major theme in chapter 4. I'll put a TW on that chapter, too, as a reminder. I decided to remove the archive warning for it because it is never discussed in detail beyond "she drugged me."

It started, as most things do, as a normal evening. It was Friday, and Fridays were one of Batman’s favorite evenings. Partly because there was no work in the morning, but mostly because Robin accompanied him on patrol.

Originally, Bruce had been fine with Dick patrolling every night, but Alfred was quick to put his foot down about that. He insisted that Bruce take his responsibility more seriously and actually think about Dick’s wellbeing. 

After all, school was the most important thing Dick did, and if Bruce allowed him to stay up most the night on school nights, he would not be at his best for school. So, reluctantly he limited Robin’s nights out to non-school nights.

Summers were the best, honestly, but so far they’d only had one summer together. Dick had been living with Bruce for a little over 18 months. To Bruce, it felt like he’d been there forever. He couldn’t imagine his life without the hyper little brat.

The 11-year-old bounded after Batman as they traversed the city, swinging from building to building, stopping petty and violent crimes all the same. 

Robin came alive when helping people, the happy child he was shining through as he flipped around and dished out pun-laden insults. Bruce absolutely could not display his amusement, because that would only encourage the boy and make it worse.

So he remained stony-faced. 

Even if he did want to laugh. Sometimes.

The night had been fairly uneventful. As uneventful as Gotham could provide, at least, and Bruce preferred it that way. For Robin’s sake, at least. 

But he should have realized something was off about the attempted mugging they stopped down by the docks. 

For one, the victim was over-acting. 

Sure, some people would scream as loud as this guy did, but not usually on this side of town. And not when they looked as toned and controlled as he did. The way he held himself screamed intensive training, not distressed civilian. 

And secondly, the perpetrator gave up far too quickly, all but calling the police himself when Robin approached. 

And Robin, of course, had engaged before Batman fully assessed the situation. 

Batman stepped closer to Robin, assuring the boy was within reach as he towered over the now-cuffed mugger and the ‘victim.’ His subconscious was trying to tell him something, but he wasn’t certain, what, exactly that was. Robin’s excited babbling to the victim, who hadn’t run off as soon as Robin attacked, wasn’t helping much.

Which, that was strange, too. The victim not running off.

If given another few seconds, Batman was sure he’d have put it together himself. The accents of the men were telling, once he knew what to listen for. They were good at faking American accents, but it was still off. A bit stilted. 

But what truly made it click was when Batman heard, “Beloved,” come from the dock behind him. 

Talia. Just what he needed.

Bruce resisted the urge to freeze, and instead chose spin around and face her. The two assassins, Bruce had now identified, quickly fell into rank, preventing Bruce from needing to reposition Robin so Bruce’s body was between him and Talia’s men.

It had been over a year and a half since their last meeting, and that night had not gone well. What little affection he had felt for the woman was stripped away the moment she chose to spike his drink. 

“Who’re you?” Robin asked, stepping to stand beside Batman as he put his hands on his hips dramatically. 

Talia raised an eyebrow and said, “This must be the circus trash you acquired.”

“What?” Robin sputtered, as Bruce growled and stepped forward to stand in front of the boy. Bruce had never mentioned Talia to Dick. Had never let him know that there were people who knew Bruce’s identity, and therefore likely knew his, so it was probably a shock that someone had connected him so easily to Dick Grayson.

Bruce, on the other hand, was pissed Talia called him ‘trash.’ 

“What do you want, Talia,” he growled, pushing Robin back behind his back as the boy tried to reclaim his spot by Bruce’s side.

“A favor,” she said dismissively, waving her hand in the air, “do you remember our night about 19 months ago?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes, not that she could tell through his cowl. “Vaguely. That tends to be the aftereffects of being drugged.”

“She drugged you?” Robin demanded, sticking his head back around Batman again, “who _is_ she?”

Swatting the air in front of Robin, asking him to be silent and still, Bruce grumbled a short, “later,” to the boy. 

“Yes, well. I got what I wanted from the night.” Talia paused and offered a ghost of a grin that sent shivers down Bruce’s back. “However,” she continued, her voice icy cold, “his life is now in danger.”

Then, Bruce did freeze. 

She couldn’t be suggesting…

Was she seriously suggesting….?

Is that how she knew the exact number of months since their meeting? 

Talia turned to one of her guards and removed a blanket from the backpack he wore. That’s when Bruce realized it wasn’t a backpack at all. He wondered how he hadn’t noticed a baby among the guards before, as Talia wrapped the blanket around the infant she extracted from the carrier. 

And more specifically, how did Bruce not know about _this_ baby?

“You can’t be serious,” he finally said, because it was better than accepting that he’d sired a child with Talia Al Ghul.

“I assure you,” Talia said dryly as she slowly approached Bruce, “he is yours. I need you to watch him. There is a power struggle occurring within the League and Damian’s life has been threatened by a traitor hoping to succeed my father. Once the threat has been dealt with, I will return for him.”

Bruce hesitated when the infant was thrust into his arms, but only briefly. Thankfully, he knew how to hold babies. He just didn’t particularly enjoy doing so. 

The child didn’t even blink at being handed off to a complete stranger. A complete stranger wearing a mask, at that. “How old is he?” Bruce asked, shifting the infant's weight in his arms, trying to find a comfortable position for them both. Heavily armored arms were likely not very comfortable for the boy. 

“Ten months,” she said, turning on her heels and leading her men back to their boat, “I will return as soon as I can. Be good for your father, Damian.”

With that, Talia and her guards boarded the boat and left, without even looking back. 

What kind of a mother just dumps her kid off on someone else like that? What kind of child is completely unfazed by it?

“Uh, Batman?” Robin asked, stepping out from where he’d been hidden, “did you know you had a baby?”

“No,” he grunted, looking back down at the baby in his arms. At _Damian._ He should call the boy by his name. He was a person, after all. 

_Damian_ still seemed completely unbothered by the situation. Not happy, though. In fact, he had a bit of a scowl on his face. Bruce wasn’t even aware babies could scowl. 

“Let’s go home, Robin,” Batman sighed, pulling his cape up to conceal the ch- Damian. 

_Damian._

This was not happening.

 

Reluctantly, Bruce had Dick hold the extremely docile baby during the drive home. It probably wasn’t safe, Damian not being strapped into anything, but Bruce had nothing to remedy the safety lapse. They had to get him back to the cave, and somehow he thought stopping by Walmart to purchase an infant carrier would raise too many questions with the public.

Besides. Once back at the cave, he’d be able to run a DNA test on the boy. He already knew, honestly, just by looking at him that Damian was his. He looked just like Bruce’s baby pictures, but there was always a chance Talia was lying.

If the baby ended up not being his, he could just drop him off with social services and make Talia deal with that. It’s not like the League of Assassins was a good place for a child to grow up, anyway.

Once they arrived in the cave, Bruce parked the car and got out. Alfred, always at the ready with snacks when they arrived home, greeted him with a, "Master Bruce, you are home early. Uneventful night, I presume?"

With a sigh, Bruce rounded the car and opened the passenger door. Show, don’t tell, he figured.

Bruce had explicitly told Robin not to attempt getting out on his own. Dropping a 10-month-old on solid rock was probably not a good thing to do, and despite himself Bruce couldn’t stop seeing all the ways Dick carrying around Damian could go horribly wrong.

“Oh my,” Alfred said, in as close to a gasp as Bruce had ever heard from the man once he hoisted Damian into his arms, “who is this?”

“That’s Bruce’s son,” Dick said, leaping from the car, already freeing himself from his mask and cape. Bruce couldn’t quite place the boy’s tone. Was it jealousy? Anger? Why would Dick be either of those things?

“Oh dear. And who, pray tell, is the young master’s mother?”

“Talia,” Bruce grunted as he passed the infant over to Alfred, who took the child without hesitation, “his name is Damian. I need to change, then I will run a DNA test.”

“Hello, Master Damian,” Bruce heard as he quickly retreated to the showers.

 

Bruce took longer than strictly necessary in the shower. How could he not? But after 15 minutes, he figured Alfred’s patience for him was probably waring thin.

When he emerged from the showers, Alfred was looking at him pointedly from where he sat at the Batcomputer, Damian in his lap. “Master Bruce, did the child’s mother give you any supplies?”

“No,” Bruce said, frowning, “just handed me the baby and left.”

“Will he be here long?” Alfred asked, standing as Bruce approached.

“I don’t know. Talia said until the power struggle within the league is over, but she didn’t give a timetable.”

“Then,” Alfred said, holding Damian out for Bruce to take, “attend to your son. I will run to the store. We will need food and diapers for the young master if he is to stay longer than ten minutes.”

Bruce rubbed at his face before turning to face the still docile child in his arms. Weren’t babies usually more… something? Vocal? Active? Anything? Damian acted like he was just… there. Completely indifferent to the world.

As soon as Bruce set him down on the examining table and tried to swab his cheek, however, the boy’s indifference disappeared. Suddenly he was angry, scowling at Bruce and fighting against his hand with all his might. Getting him to stay still long enough to pinch his tiny little mouth open was impossible.

At every attempt, Damian would turn his head out of the way and whine. Bruce ended up having to wrap his arm around Damian, pinning the boy to his chest as he forced his head still long enough to open his mouth.

Damian let out a screech of displeasure as Bruce finished the task. He knew he wasn’t harming the boy, knew his actions were not painful. Annoying, perhaps, but not painful. Regardless, Bruce felt the need to apologize and murmured, “Sorry, kid,” as he placed the swab in a plastic bag.

Now that that was done, Bruce just needed to analyze the DNA. Looking around the cave, Bruce considered where he could stick Damian. Holding the kid was a little much. If he could just set him down somewhere... Maybe he could put some blankets on the practice mats and let the baby snuggle up and go to sleep.

His mind immediately reminded him of the many, many drop offs in the cave where Damian could quickly and quietly crawl right over the edge of a cliff and plummet to his death. Bruce would win no points with social services if he killed a baby through neglect. And Bruce knew himself well, knew as soon as he sat down at the computer, he’d get caught up in his work and not check on Damian enough.

No. Bruce shouldn’t set Damian down. With a long, drawn out sigh, Bruce trudged over to the computer and sat down with Damian, resigning himself to keeping the kid in his arms at least until Alfred returned.

Dick came out of the showers while Bruce was still sitting there, little Damian sitting in his lap, chewing on a coaster he’d snatched off the desk. “So,” Dick said cautiously as he leaned against Bruce’s chair, “you didn’t use protection, did you?”

Horror crossed Bruce’s face as he turned and scolded, “Dick,” at the boy. He was eleven, for heaven’s sake. _Eleven._

This was not a conversation they should be having.

“What?” Dick asked innocently, with a smile that told Bruce he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Go to bed.”

“Bruce, come on,” Dick pouted, “it’s not even 1.” After a second, he pointed at Damian and said, “And I want to know more about that.”

“We’ll talk more in the morning,” Bruce said, shifting Damian a bit as he continued setting up the program to check paternity, “I have tests to run.”

“Do you only date super villains?” Dick asked, apparently choosing tonight as the night to completely disobey Bruce in every facet, “because first it was Catwoman and now it’s the League of Assassins lady.”

“Dick,” Bruce snapped, causing Damian to jump and drop the coaster to the ground, “Bed. Now.”

“Fine,” Dick huffed, as he stomped all the way to the stairs and then up them. If there had been a door at the top, Bruce is sure Dick would have slammed it.

Kids.

Bruce rubbed at his face again, then looked down at the still infant in his lap. Damian was staring up at him, wide green eyes piercing as he did.

Now he’d gone and scared a baby.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, bouncing his knee, and therefore the kid, a couple times to try and distract him from his apparent fear.

Hopefully Damian didn’t start crying. Bruce wasn’t sure he could handle that. Instead, though, Damian’s expression shifted back to a scowl as his attention turned to pulling at his blanket.

Indifferent or angry. What was wrong with this kid? Weren’t babies supposed to be more… happy? Smile and laugh and make noise in general?

Bruce had no idea what he was doing. He was more than sure Alfred knew what he was doing, though, and hopefully the butler would be back soon so he could take Damian and… do something with him.

Because Bruce had no idea what to do with a baby.

\----

It took an hour, but the test finally finished. After double checking the results, Bruce saved it all to a new file he named “Damian Wayne” and sat there for several long moments, staring at the name on the screen.

There was no way this was happening.

He’d wake up in a few minutes and it would have all been a nightmare.

Because Damian was his.

He had _a son._

_Why was this happening??_

Damian yawned pitifully in Bruce’s hold, causing Bruce to look at the time. It was nearing 2am, and if it weren’t good for eleven-year-olds to stay up late, it was probably even worse for infants to do so. Hopefully Alfred was back and would be available for putting Damian down to sleep.

Where did babies sleep? Cribs. They did not own a crib. Maybe that was one of the things Alfred bought.

The infant squirmed in Bruce’s arms once he stood, but eventually settled down, resting his head against Bruce’s shoulder with his little arms tucked under his body. He looked exhausted. Bed was probably the right idea.

When they reached the kitchen, Bruce found Alfred putting away various tiny jars of food in the cabinet, and a pile of things sitting on the island. Clothes. Bottles. Toys.

Cautiously, Bruce picked up the first thing he could reach, which was a set of pacifiers. _Binkies,_ his mother had called them. What a ridiculous word. Did Damian need a _binkie?_

“Ah, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, drawing Bruce’s attention from the packaging, “I purchased our newest charge some items. We will have to do a more substantial shopping trip when more than just Walmart is open, but for now these things will do.”

Bruce nodded and looked at the massive haul Alfred had purchased and wondered what else a baby could need. Why did babies need so many things?

“Come,” Alfred said, motioning for Bruce to follow after he picked up a bag of still more items, “I’ll set up a diaper changing station in your bathroom so you may prepare the young master for bed.”

“Me?” Bruce asked, startled, only to silenced by a sharp look from Alfred.

“Master Bruce, if you did not want the responsibility of fatherhood, perhaps you should not have done the deed to create said child to begin with.”

Bruce reddened and looked down at the half-asleep infant in his arms, thinking back to numerous, extremely embarrassing lectures from Alfred as a teenager. “I- I didn’t mean…”

Alfred frowned and set a hand on Bruce’s unoccupied shoulder, “Bruce,” he said softly, “regardless of your intentions, this young man is here now and you are his father. The time you spend with an infant is precious. Children grow up too fast, and trust me when I tell you you will regret this in years to come if you don’t spend time with him now.”

Heaving a sigh, Bruce covered his eyes for a moment before looking back down at Damian. Would he regret it? He never wanted to be a dad. Never wanted children. He hadn’t wanted _this_ child. Hadn’t even wanted the encounter that produced this child.

But. He couldn’t just _abandon_ his own kid, either. It wasn’t _Damian’s_ fault Bruce didn’t want him. It was Talia’s, really.

It wasn’t fair of her to bring a child into this. Into their worlds. Into their feud. And wasn't fair of her to dump him off on Bruce.

For now, at least, he could look out for the kid. He was capable of that, right? Maybe? If Alfred seemed to think he was, then he probably was.

“Okay,” he said weakly, finally returning his gaze to Alfred, “yeah. I can- I can do it.” Put him to bed, at least. Hopefully Talia would come get the kid soon enough.

“Excellent, sir. Come now, I will show you how to prepare the young master for bed.”

In the master bathroom, Alfred showed Bruce how to change Damian’s diaper and dressed him in a new set of pajamas. They were cute. They had the Justice League symbol on them. It made Bruce want to smile, but he was too wired to do so. Too nervous and exhausted and antsy.

Damian seemed mildly perturb he’d been awakened to be changed, but did not otherwise react. He still was not making noise, whining or anything, and was merely scowling at Alfred as the butler buttoned up the legs on his one-piece.

There had to be something wrong with the kid.

“There we go, Master Damian,” Alfred said, standing the kid up on the counter to get one last look, “now I believe it’s high time you and Master Bruce got some sleep.”

At Bruce’s baffled expression, Alfred added, “It is important you speak to Master Damian. It is how infants learn the language and form attachments to those around them. If you do not talk to him, it can harm him for years to come.”

“Oh, okay,” Bruce said, slightly bewildered, as he took the baby from Alfred’s hands when prompted, “where do you want him to sleep?”

“I believe your crib is in the attic, however we will need to purchase a new mattress for it before we can allow Master Damian to use it. For now, your bed will be fine, sir. I will assist you in creating a barrier so he does not roll off.”

Bruce nodded numbly as he followed Alfred back out into the bedroom, internally panicking over the prospect of having a baby in bed with him. What if he rolled over and squished the child? Babies were delicate, and Bruce wasn’t a small man.

After Alfred prepared the bed for the two of them to sleep, Bruce laid Damian down in the middle and made sure the blanket and pillows were away from him, per Alfred’s instructions. Then he laid himself down and bid Alfred goodnight.

And he lay there. For what felt like an eternity. Just staring at the baby.

Damian’s scowl had deepened once Bruce laid him on the bed, and remained for as long as Bruce stared at the child. It was like the kid wasn’t even trying to go back to sleep, despite having been nearly there before Alfred changed him.

Bruce was so out of his depth.

He thought he was lost enough looking after an eleven-year-old. This, though. This was completely different. So much worse. Dick could at least tell Bruce what he was doing wrong. Take care of himself, really. Damian though? Damian was completely helpless.

Completely helpless and reliant on Bruce.

He was going to screw up, he just knew it. This was why he never wanted kids. He wouldn’t make a good father. Having someone be so dependent on him was terrifying. Alfred was there to make sure Damian didn’t _die,_ but there were plenty of other ways Bruce could screw this tiny little human up. So far, he’d done nothing but annoy the kid. Scare him. And make him angry, somehow. Like right now, as the baby continued to glare at him.

Why would Talia even trust him with Damian? Couldn’t she have found someone far more qualified to watch him during the power struggle?

Then again, his estate was probably the most secure place in the world. No one would be able to get to Damian here. And if it came down to it, Bruce could easily take the baby up to the Watchtower, and then it would be completely impossible for anyone to get near him.

That’s probably why Talia did it.

Damian eventually closed his eyes, but his brow shifted to something different. Pain? Upset? Something. Bruce wasn’t sure. Then the baby began to emit a very low whine Bruce immediately recognized as the start of crying.

_No, no, no,_ he internally pleaded, _don’t do that._

He hesitantly reached out and placed his hand on the baby’s back and began rubbing circles, shushing the child as he did so.

Little by little, the tension in Damian’s features dissipated until he was fast asleep, a peaceful and innocent expression replacing his signature scowl.

So maybe the baby wasn’t broken.

Just. Weird. Angry, maybe? What could cause a baby to be so angry? Was he mad his mother abandoned him? Did he even understand that that’s what had essentially happened? Was he angry at Bruce for being so inept with children? How smart were babies anyway? Bruce had no idea what infants were capable of, he’d never had to deal with them before.

As he closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep himself, he began compiling a list of questions to ask Alfred or Google in the morning, starting with infant development.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce woke with a start when something tiny and warm smacked him in the face.

He opened his eyes to see a baby on his knees, one hand on Bruce’s cheek. It took Bruce too long to process what was happening, and before he fully woke up, the child had put both his hands on Bruce’s face and pushed up to his feet.

But the baby quickly lost his balance and toppled backwards, nearly knocking his head on the bed’s headboard. He was only saved by Bruce’s quick reflexes.

Fully awake now, thanks to his racing heart, Bruce sat up and looked at the clock. He set the baby back down next to him as he did, not really wanting to hold him, but not wanting him out of his reach, in case he decided to do something stupid again. It wasn’t quite 8:45, which meant he had plenty of time to shower before breakfast with Dick at 9:30.

Okay.

Where should he put Damian while he showered?

He could always find Alfred and dump the child on him, but he’d likely admonish Bruce for it. He had been quite clear the night before that Damian was his responsibility. Besides, Alfred was getting up there in age. Maybe he shouldn’t be adding the work of taking care of an infant to the man’s already full workload.

Bruce looked around his bedroom. He could always just let the kid roam his room while he showered. It was a clean and tidy room. There wasn’t anything on the ground the kid could get hurt with.

Deciding to do that, Bruce set Damian straight on the floor and went to take a shower. As an afterthought, he flipped the television on and found a children’s cartoon channel and left that to entertain the baby.

His shower only took five minutes, plus a few minutes for shaving and brushing his teeth. In all, he spent less than ten minutes in the bathroom.

Apparently, time worked differently for babies.

When Bruce walked back into his bedroom, he walked into a vastly different room than what he had left. That room had bee tidy. This room looked like a tornado had swept through it.

Frantically, he searched everywhere for Damian. The kid had pulled all the books off the bottom two shelves of his bookshelves, scattered the loose papers from a folder across the floor, and somehow managed to get the entire duvet of the king-sized bed.

How the hell?

On the edge of panic now, Bruce lifted the blanket off the ground, hoping to God the kid hadn’t suffocated under the weight of the heavy down blanket, and was relieved to find no dead baby.

Then he heard the child gag. In the closet.

Quickly, Bruce rushed over to the large walk in closet and flipped on the light. In the corner, Damian had found a shoebox to open and was currently tasting all the contents. It was a shoebox Bruce had put together as a child of some of his parents’ items, after their deaths. The watch he had in his mouth, which had belonged to Bruce’s father years ago, apparently hadn’t tasted too good. Damian’s face was both bright red and pale, as he had apparently made himself choke.

Bruce swooped the child up and forced his mouth open, making sure there was nothing blocking his airway.

Damian squealed in protest, smacking Bruce in the face.

He was squealing.

Okay.

Bruce took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. The kid was fine. He was breathing.

“Dammit, kid,” he swore, rescuing the watch from Damian’s tight fist, “you’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

Damian huffed and flung himself down against Bruce’s chest, turning his face away from him. Was this pouting?

It was kind of cute.

Bruce paused in his effort to clean up to replay that thought in his head. It _was_ kind of cute, and Bruce had no idea what to do with that feeling.

With a shake of his head, Bruce refocused on the task at hand. Talk to the kid, he reminded himself. Teach him the language by talking to him. “Okay,” Bruce said, replacing the contents of the shoebox and standing up, “I think we need to get you changed and dressed.”

Changing the boy’s diaper was quite the adventure. He would not stay still. No matter how much Bruce pleaded. Bruce simply did not have enough hands to both restrain the child and fasten the diaper around his rear. Every time he thought he had it, Damian would squirm and wriggle his way out of Bruce’s grasp, or kick his legs violently.

It took eight tries to finally get a diaper secured around the kid. Even then, it was a very sloppy job.

“Why are you making this difficult, Damian?” Bruce asked, already exhausted. He just wanted to go back to bed, he was so worn out. And he hadn’t even finished getting the baby ready for the day. It was 9:20 now, and he had breakfast in ten minutes with Dick. At this rate, it’d be bedtime before Damian was ready.

Bruce dug through the bag of clothes Alfred had purchased and found a weird t-shirt that had buttons on the bottom. A onesie, his mind supplied the nearly forgotten word, as he put it on Damian.

It was much easier to dress the boy than it had been to change his diaper. It was just a matter of slipping the shirt over his head then taking ahold of his arms one at a time and pulling them through the sleeves. Fastening the buttons at the bottom was also much easier, since the kid didn’t seem as upset when allowed to stand on the counter, his hands resting on Bruce’s arm to steady his balance.

It only took a moment longer to slip the little baby jeans on over his legs and a tiny pair of socks on his feet. No need for shoes. It wasn’t like Bruce was going to take him anywhere. He didn’t need the media storm over a kid that would be in his house temporarily.

Bruce turned the baby around so they could both look at themselves in the mirrors.

“Look, now you’re presentable,” Bruce said as he combed the baby’s thick black hair to the side.

A knock at his bedroom door caught his attention.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said as he opened the door, “Dear heavens what happened in here?”

“Alfred,” Bruce said hurriedly as he grabbed the baby and walked out into the main room. Ashamed the butler had walked in on his bedroom in such disarray, he offered, “I will clean it up. Damian had a bit too much fun this morning.”

“You did not leave the child unattended, did you?” Alfred said, his eyes cold, “This room is not baby proofed.”

“I- uh,” Bruce laughed nervously and offered a slight smile, “Sorry, Alf.”

“It is not me you are placing in danger, Master Bruce. Babies can get into a lot of trouble unsupervised and can even harm themselves if you are not careful. Be sure his surroundings are safe before you leave him alone for any period of time.”

Bruce nodded. He’d already figured that out. The minor heart attack he’d had at the sound of Damian choking was enough to teach him his lesson.

“I will add a play pen to my shopping list so we can set him up his own safe space in this room,” Alfred said with a curt nod, “Now come along. I see you two are ready for the day, and breakfast will be served momentarily.”

Downstairs, Bruce found a high chair set up in the dining room, right next to where Bruce usually sat. While wondering where the chair had even come from, because seriously, how did they just have a high chair on hand, Bruce set Damian down in it.

When the boy immediately stood up and began trying to climb out of it, Bruce realized what the straps were for on the seat. He forced Damian to sit back down and buckled him in, despite Damian’s huff of annoyance.

“Good morning, Bruce!” Dick cheered as he skipped into the room, still dressed in his pajamas, ready for their usual relaxed Saturday morning. After blinking, he added less cheerfully, “and baby Damian.”

“Morning, chum,” Bruce said as he rested his head down in his arms, deciding to ignore the clear animosity Dick was holding for Damian’s presence. He was kind of on board with that, in all honesty.

“Are you okay, Bruce?” Dick asked, the concern evident in his voice.

“Babies are exhausting. I’ve been up less than an hour and I’m beat.”

Just then, Damian decided he had enough of being ignored, and started thrashing his arms around, trying his best to free himself from the high chair. Where the hell had that quiet, subdued infant from last night gone and why couldn’t he still be here instead of this little brat?

“What?” Bruce demanded, grabbing hold of the kid’s arms to calm him down, “What do you want?”

“Master Damian is likely hungry,” Alfred said as he entered the dining room, balancing a tray of breakfast and coffee for the occupants, “I have prepared him some oatmeal and sliced bananas. You will need to feed him the oatmeal, but he is likely capable of feeding himself the bananas. Just be sure to watch him so he doesn’t choke.”

“Right,” Bruce said tersely, taking the bowl and spoon from Alfred.

Dick watched on in amusement as Bruce attempted to feed Damian. The baby was very excited for the food, at first, but quickly began spitting out most of what Bruce put in his mouth.

“Stop laughing, Dick,” Bruce said, his exasperation with the infant only made worse by his annoyance at Dick, “Damian just eat the food. I know you’re hungry.”

In response, Damian spat the next spoonful of oatmeal out, and Bruce struggled to wipe it up with a napkin before it got all over Damian’s clothes. He needed one of those things you put around babies’ necks for this exact reason. Because at this point, Damian would need clean clothes after breakfast.

It was a frustrating half hour, Bruce trying to feed Damian while also eating his own breakfast. The brat wasn’t interested in eating his food, but the second Bruce tried to eat his own breakfast, suddenly the kid was hungry again and wanted another bite.

He got so caught up trying to placate the baby, Bruce didn’t really spend the time talking to Dick, like they normally did each morning at breakfast. He’d have to make it up to his ward later.

Hopefully Talia would come pick Damian up soon, and this wouldn’t continue to be an issue.

The rest of the morning went pretty much as well as breakfast had gone.

Terribly.

Alfred showed Bruce which living room he’d baby proofed and set him and Damian up in there for the morning. Bruce was supposed to _play_ with Damian. Or at least watch him. All morning. Until the baby went down for his ‘morning nap’ at around 11. Alfred said something about how his sleep schedule would have to be fixed over the next week. Babies apparently got up every morning at the same time and then took a nap mid-morning _and_ mid-afternoon.

That was not okay with Bruce. He enjoyed sleeping in on the weekends.

“Where is he going to sleep for that?” Bruce had asked, because he didn’t want to be trapped taking naps every day, too, but Alfred assured him he’d be back by nap-time with a ‘pack and play,’ whatever the hell that was.

And that’s how Bruce found himself opening yet another toy for Damian. Alfred had bought a dozen toys the night before and left them there for Damian to pick and choose. The stupid brat would pick a toy, wait for Bruce to open it, then play with it for three minutes before picking a new one.

So far he’d had the blocks opened, some weird ball that was basically a rattle with a ton of sliding parts, and a set of animal figures. Now Damian wanted the shape sorter toy opened, and Bruce wanted to pull his hair out.

The little brat was weird about asking for help, though. The fact of the matter was, he _didn’t._ He just found the box he wanted open and sat there, pulling at its sides until Bruce came over and helped him. If Bruce ignored him for too long, Damian would start making little noises to draw Bruce’s attention, but wouldn’t actually look up or made any indication that he wanted _Bruce_ to help him.

With a sigh, Bruce slid down off the couch, again, to help Damian open the new toy. He figured it was better to just do it instead of risking making the kid start wailing. So far Damian hadn’t thrown a tantrum, so Bruce wanted to keep it that way.

This toy, apparently, was far more entertaining to Damian than the previous toys had been, because ten minutes later, when Dick walked in, Damian was still playing with it. Bruce was peacefully reading the news on his tablet, only kind of paying attention to the little brat.

Dick made his way over to the couch and sat down on the arm right next to Bruce, and then… just sat there. Didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to get Bruce’s attention. Just sat there, staring over at where Damian was playing.

Suppressing a sigh, Bruce clicked the tablet off and looked up at his ward. “Everything okay, chum?”

“Fine,” Dick said, his voice monotone.

When Dick didn’t say anything more, didn’t smile or move at all, Bruce scooted over on the couch and gently pulled at Dick’s arm, causing the boy to fall onto the couch next to him, his own arm he set on the couch behind Dick.

Dick sighed and finally looked up, asking, “How long will he be here?”

“You have the same amount of information I do,” Bruce pointed out, “I don’t know when Talia will come get him.”

Nodding, Dick shifted some in his seat, leaning back some so his head was touching Bruce’s arm. “You said she drugged you?”

“Mhm,” Bruce said, looking over at Damian real quick to make sure the kid wasn’t dead. He was being awfully quiet. Instead of dead, though, Bruce just found him trying to fit his blocks into the shape sorter toy. The blocks were too large, so he would likely be trying for a while.

“Why?” Dick asked, “how?”

Bruce shrugged and looked back down at Dick, who was now staring at him. “You said it yourself, she’s a super villain. It’s what super villains do.”

With a huff, Dick asked, “Why do you date super villains?”

“Its complicated,” Bruce said, unwilling to explain to Dick what happened. There were things children just didn’t need to know, and this was one of those things. After a second, Bruce added, “And Selina is not a super villain.”

“You’re just saying that because you _like_ her,” Dick said, making a face at Bruce, which despite everything actually brought a smile to his face.

“And you’re just saying that because you’re a brat,” he said, ruffling Dick’s hair roughly enough that the boy ducked and swatted his hands away.

Dick relaxed, finally, allowing a smile to fall onto his face and Bruce had never felt more relieved. “Are we still gonna watch a movie?” Dick asked, “You said we could watch _Spy Kids_ today.”

“Yeah, chum,” Bruce said, returning his attention to Damian, who had begun growling at his toy, as if doing so would make the blocks fit into the sorter. “We have to watch it in here, though. Alfred said this is the only room safe for Damian right now.”

“Fine,” Dick said, as if Bruce had just asked the world of him, “but can we have popcorn, then?”

“Sure.”

“Soda?”

“Hmm,” Bruce says slowly, suppressing a grin at the way Dick was looking at him pleadingly, “tell you what. You sit here with Damian and I’ll go make the popcorn and sneak a couple sodas in here before Alfred gets home.”

“All right!” Dick cheered, already slipping down onto the floor to help Damian, who was now angrily pounding the block in his hand against the shape sorter. “That one’s too big,” Bruce heard Dick say in an overly sweet voice as he left the room.

Bruce may be inept at all things cooking, but he was capable of popping popcorn. Probably. He’d never actually tried, but google was telling him that it was pretty simple, and considering there was a step-by-step guide he’d found, he was fairly confident in his ability.

Either he’d return to Dick with a bowl of popcorn or he’d have to call the fire department. Either way, he was just glad to get away from Damian for a few minutes.

He tried not to think about it as he pushed bottles out of the way to find the supplies he needed. Oil, corn kernels, a pot, and a lid. It took a few minutes, but he filled the pot as instructed with some oil and turned the heat to medium-high.

It was while the oil heated that he started searching for their popcorn bowl. In the third cabinet he opened, he stopped to look at the strange looking coffee he’d found before realizing it wasn’t coffee. It was baby formula. He had no idea the stuff started out powdered. Was it made like coffee?

“Ah, Master Bruce,” Alfred said as Bruce was reading the formula’s label, “are you preparing the young master a bottle?”

“Do I need to?” Bruce asked, looking over to see Alfred place an armful of bags down on the counter, “I was actually popping popcorn for Dick and myself.”

“Were you now?” Alfred asked, walking over to the stove to inspect the pot, “Master Damian would likely appreciate a bottle. Why don’t you prepare eight ounces for him following the instructions.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, frowning. He’d rather try the popcorn, instead. But Alfred flicked some water at the oil and dumped the kernels in before Bruce could protest.

After reading the instructions again, Bruce retrieved a bottle and filled it with some of the fridge’s filtered water, then opened the can of formula and stared at the yellow powder inside.

And just stood there.

Staring down at the small plastic scoop in his hands.

“Alf,” he whispered, “I can’t do this.”

“Nonsense,” Alfred said, as he picked the pot up and shook it, “It is simple. It should tell you how many scoops to put in.”

Shaking his head, Bruce said, “No, I mean- I can’t.”

The sound of the kernels popping assaulted Bruce’s ears, causing him to close his eyes. It was all so… real. So mundane. As if today were just a regular Saturday. Movie with Dick. Popcorn and soda. Spoiling his ward behind Alfred’s back. As Alfred pretended to turn his back.

‘Feed the baby’ seemed to fit in perfectly, and it was throwing Bruce for a loop.

Because it was surreal.

And it was too much.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said gently, softly, turning the heat off and dumping the popcorn into the bowl he’d retrieved.

Once upon a time. Years ago. Just that tone would have comforted Bruce. Like a hug. An admission of affection.

But it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t enough to solve this.

“I- I’m too young,” he said, dropping the scoops into the can so he could rub at his face, “To be a dad, I mean. I- I“ _never wanted it._

“How old do you think you should be?” Alfred asked, as he went about adding butter to the popcorn.

“I don’t know,” Bruce said, lifting his face to look over at Alfred. To search for the answers he wasn’t sure he wanted. “30?”

“So when you are 30, Master Damian will be 6.”

Bruce took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Loudly. He still wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear, but he knew that wasn’t it.

“Master Bruce…” Alfred said, wiping his hands off on his apron and crossing the kitchen to stand right next to Bruce, close enough to place his hand on his shoulder.

“Alfred,” Bruce interrupted, “I don’t even like him. I don’t even like my own son.”

With a pat of his hand, Alfred said gently, “He will grow on you.”

“Will he? What kind of father am I? Aren’t people supposed to- supposed to…” _love their children? Want them?_

Squeezing now, Alfred said, “Give it time. Let the shock wear off. Settle into a routine. He _will_ grow on you. Master Dick did.”

“I always liked Dick,” Bruce said dryly. Since that wasn’t even a good comparison. Bruce invited Dick to come live with him. Of course he always liked Dick. Of course Dick grew on him. He hadn’t invited Damian.

“And soon enough,” Alfred said, letting go to resume his work, “you’ll feel the same about Damian.”

Bruce sighed and looked back down at the powdered formula, then slowly measured out four scoops and dumped them into the waiting bottle. As he was screwing the lid back on to shake it up, he could hear down the hall the sound of a baby crying growing closer.

It was a sound he hadn’t heard yet. Damian had come close to crying, but hadn’t actually done it yet. It kind of hurt to hear. Like someone had a hand around his heart and was squeezing.

But that’s just because Bruce hated it when kids were sad. Didn’t matter who they were.

That’s all.

A moment later, while Bruce was shaking the bottle, Dick came racing into the kitchen, crying Damian in his arms. It was an amusing sight, seeing the little 11-year-old carrying around a baby about a third his size. Bruce figured he should be nervous, but Dick seemed to have a good handle on the baby.

“Bruce,” Dick shouted as he crossed the threshold, a little panic in his voice. And just as he did, Damian’s crying ceased and he simply looked back and forth between Bruce and Alfred, a miserable expression on his face, “oh he stopped.”

Walking over to his ward, Bruce finished mixing the bottle and looked down at Damian, who regarded him with wary eyes.

Wary eyes on a baby. Interesting.

A little concerning.

Damian then noticed the bottle in Bruce’s hands and reached out one of his hands for it. In response, Bruce handed it over and took Damian out of Dick’s arms. The baby immediately tried to fling himself backward in Bruce’s grasp while he started drinking, causing Bruce to awkwardly catch and hold the kid with one hand on his back and his arm wrapped around his legs.

"Uh,” Bruce stammered, just as Alfred walked over and showed Bruce how to hold Damian with one arm, the baby’s head cradled in his elbow and his forearm holding the rest of his body, all so Damian was laying back comfortably, “Right. Okay. Hey, Dick, why don’t you go pick out a couple sodas and we can go watch that movie.”

“All right,” Dick cheered, his expression turning from the uneasy frown he’d had since walking into the kitchen to a bright smile.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred admonished, even as he put the bowl of popcorn on a tray so Dick could carry it and the sodas.

“What? I promised the kid soda.”

“Popcorn and soda so close to lunch,” Alfred said dryly, even though Bruce could see the hint of amusement in the man’s face, “should I even bother preparing a meal?”

“We’ll eat,” Bruce said, allowing the hint of a smile to show, “won’t we, Dick?”

“Of course!”

Back in the living room, Bruce found himself sitting on the couch, Damian still cradled in his arms as he worked away at the bottle in his hands. The entire time, he stared up at Bruce curiously, studying his face, catching his eyes every once in a while.

Bruce tried his best not to look back, but he found it difficult. His wide green eyes were mesmerizing and as the movie started, he found himself staring back at the little boy, watching carefully as his blinks started getting slower and his face softened further.

It was rather amusing how eventually, his blinks lasted so long that he’d quit drinking and go slack in Bruce’s arms, just to jolt back to awareness, sucking away at the bottle as if it were going somewhere. When Damian dropped the bottle for the second time, Bruce started holding it for him, and it was then that Damian fell completely asleep.

When it was clear the baby was out for good, Bruce nudged Dick, who was sitting next to him eagerly watching the movie, and whispered, “I’m going to put him down. I’ll be back.”

Dick kind of scowled at Bruce, but said rather flatly, “Fine,” before returning his attention to the television.

They needed to have another talk. Later, though. For now, Bruce did not want to wake Damian back up.

Alfred showed Bruce where he’d set up a portable crib, since it made more sense to use a ‘ _pack and play_ ’ than to set up an actual nursery for a baby that wouldn’t be with them long. Bruce was grateful for the decision as he gently laid Damian down in the crib in his bedroom.

Bruce watched him sleep for several long moments, taking in the way he stuck his thumb in his mouth and curled up. The way his tiny chest rose and fell with every breath. How his hair stuck up all over the place, untamed. How his socked feet kicked every once in a while.

Putting him down to bed was remarkably easy, and watching him sleep was peaceful. Almost relaxing.

And Bruce thought, _That wasn’t so bad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I really debated what kind of technology I was going to give them, since 'present time' in this fic AU is about 12 years from this point. Then I realized that the first iPad was released 9 years ago now. And that it wasn't the first tablet. And that my dad has had little handheld computers for 20 or so years at this point, because he is the definition of technology geek. So I figured having Bruce read the news on a tablet wouldn't be too outlandish for 12 years ago. Especially since this fic will only have to age three years for it to be possible Bruce was using an iPad. Crazy, huh?


	3. Chapter 3

Damian was no less exhausting as the day went on. He only slept for about an hour at both of his naps, waking up far too soon for Bruce’s tastes and yelling out his frustrations at being trapped in his crib.

Bruce spent the entire day watching Damian play. Feeding him. Changing his diaper. And all around hating his life decisions. Like the one that got him involved with Talia Al Ghul.

Dick had gone off to his room at some point, leaving Bruce alone with the baby, who wasn’t a very good companion. He never talked back when Bruce said anything, and usually just stared at him for a minute after he spoke, then went back to playing with whatever was in front of him.

Bruce had never felt more like a prisoner in his own house.

Alfred seemed to be giving Bruce a wide berth and stayed rather scarce throughout the day, only appearing when Bruce needed him most to answer questions. Overall, though, Bruce was left to navigate the waters of fatherhood himself.

So when it came time to get ready for patrol, Bruce started getting antsy. Because he couldn’t just stick Damian in the crib and leave. That would be child abuse, wouldn’t it? Or neglect? Mean, at the very least.

Alfred, though, appeared just before Bruce usually got ready for patrol and informed Bruce he would handle Damian until Bruce got back. Bruce had never wanted to hug Alfred more in his life. Instead, he gladly passed Damian over and escaped down to the cave as quickly as he could.

Blessedly, Dick was back to his happy, chatty self that night, too.

It wasn’t until the end of patrol did Dick broach the topic again.

“Does he have to stay with us?” Dick asked, as he pulled his mask off.

Bruce looked away from the computer to examine his ward. Look at the way his shoulders sagged, his lips turned downward, and his eyes refused to look back.

“Where do you suggest he stay?”

“I don’t know,” Dick whined, the maturity of his 11-year-old self shining through, “You don’t want him, right?”

Bruce frowned, but grunted.

“Parents who don’t want their kids put them up for adoption.”

“Dick,” Bruce said, a hint of reprimand in his voice as he turned back to face his ward, “you aren’t honestly suggesting I put my son up for adoption.”

Scowling, Dick stood firm, unmoved by Bruce’s attention. “Well isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you don’t want a kid!” he shouted, throwing his arms out dramatically as he did.

“You of all people know what Gotham foster care is like,” Bruce pointed out, “are you _honestly_ suggesting this to me right now.”

Dick faltered, then crossed his arms.

“I can’t do that without causing a massive media storm. If I put my son up for adoption, social services would likely take you away, as well.

“What?” Dick asked, startled now, “but why? If it’s only Damian you don’t want…”

Bruce ran a hand through his hair and turned back to his computer screen, “Look, can you just stick it out for a few weeks? This isn’t permanent. Talia will come get him eventually and everything will go back to normal, okay?”

“A few weeks?” Dick asked, his voice small.

“Yeah, chum. A couple months at the most, alright?”

“Fine.”

“Go on to bed,” Bruce said, resuming his typing at the night’s report, “it’s late.”

“Are you going to come say goodnight?” Dick asked, “You didn’t last night.”

With a sigh, Bruce rubbed at his face and said, “Yeah, I’ll be up in a few.”

Dick knew exactly what to say to make Bruce feel guilty, because he did. The routine wasn’t much. Bruce just stuck his head in and asked if he’d brushed his teeth before saying ‘goodnight,’ but it was a routine. And it was one Damian disrupted.

Damian was disrupting a lot with his presence.

The sooner he was gone, the better.

\- - -

As the week wore on, little Damian started warming up to the…. family? To Bruce and Alfred and Dick.

Every day he seemed more comfortable with them. Happier, even, to see them each morning, as if the longer they stayed, the more he expected them to be gone, and was pleasantly surprised they weren’t.

And the way Damian expressed his happiness struck Bruce as odd. It could be seen in the way he bounced slightly, in the kick of his feet, the lift of his eyebrows, the glint in his eyes. The one way it was never seen was on his lips.

Because Damian didn’t smile.

“Perhaps it is because you never smile at him,” Alfred had said, passive-aggressive as ever. Always quick to point out what Bruce was doing wrong. Steer him in the right direction.

Alfred was the real adult here.

“If he does not think you are happy to see him, why would he tell you he is happy to see you?”

Basically, Bruce was supposed to lie to Damian. That’s what he got out of his conversations with Alfred.

Regardless, Bruce was trying. Honest to God he was trying, but smiling was hard.

The first time Bruce smiled at Damian, the baby just scrunched his eyebrows and stared back. Each time after hadn’t been much better. By the fifth time, Bruce started to wonder whether Damian _was_ broken.

 _‘Maybe he just takes after you’_ had been the treacherous thought.

But even if Damian didn’t smile, he was starting to express himself more. He was downright loud, at times. He cried out, screamed, and babbled away to anyone who would sit with him. Even when nothing was wrong. When he didn’t require immediate attention. When he just _wanted_ it.

Sometimes, he even asked for help.

About a week into his stay with Bruce, Damian was sitting on the floor of the living room, playing with his favorite shape sorter.

Bruce, doing a decent job at keeping his ear on Damian while still delving deeper into the case he was working through on his tablet, startled when Damian suddenly started crying.

When Bruce looked over, expecting to find the kid hurt somehow, he just saw Damian, staring straight at him, his little lip jutted out as he held his toy out for Bruce. After a second, during which time Damian must have realized Bruce had no idea what was going on, the little boy pulled at the lid and made a whining noise.

“Is it stuck?” Bruce asked, setting his tablet aside and sitting up.

Damian held the toy out again, so Bruce walked over knelt before Damian to help.

“Better?” he asked, after he pried the lid off and handed it back.

Gladly accepting the toy, Damian bounced a little in the way he did, and looked up at Bruce with almost an admiring gaze.

And it froze Bruce to his core. Because he was not a person to be admiring like that. Not the person Damian should be admiring.

Yet, there he was. Looking at Bruce like he’d just moved a mountain. Like he’d hung the moon in the sky. Like he’d done anything important. Like he _was_ important.

Slowly, Bruce smiled at Damian. A real, genuine smile and, on impulse, he reached out and tapped Damian on the nose. On his adorable little button nose that for some reason just demanded Bruce do such a thing.

Damian looked away, but Bruce caught the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth.

\- - -

Keeping Damian’s crib in Bruce’s room was not one of his favorite ideas.

“It’s easier,” Alfred had said, “babies often require attention in the middle of the night.”

The fact Alfred handled the bedtime routine and kept his eye on Damian so Bruce could patrol was the only reason Bruce didn’t argue. If Bruce’s room was where Alfred thought the boy should sleep, then Bruce would have to accept it.

Didn’t mean he liked it.

Especially not when, after patrol, Damian woke up as soon as Bruce slipped in and stood up in his crib.

Wincing, Bruce quietly walked over to his bed, trying his best not to make eye contact. Maybe if he got under his covers and pretended to go to sleep, Damian would follow suit.

No such luck, of course.

Damian started whining after a minute, shaking at the side of the pack and play, demanding attention.

“Go to sleep, Damian,” Bruce said, but of course the little brat didn’t listen.

Almost as if he were saying ‘no,’ Damian whined out a tad more aggressively, then continued with his pseudo-fit.

With a sigh, Bruce slipped out of bed and walked over to the portable crib, searching the bed of it for Damian’s pacifier. When he found it, he slipped it into Damian’s mouth, holding it there until the baby started sucking on it. Then, he gently laid Damian back down, patting at his back.

“There,” he said, “go back to sleep.”

To Bruce’s relief, Damian did. Not happily. He huffed quite a few times, making sure Bruce was aware how annoyed he was with the directions, but he did eventually drift off.

But he did it again the next night

And the next.

In fact, it became a routine. Every night, Damian would wake up when Bruce got home. No matter how silently Bruce snuck into the room, and as Batman, Bruce could be quiet, Damian stood up and demanded attention.

At first, the night went just as that first time had gone. Damian would whine until Bruce put the pacifier in his mouth and laid him back down. But by the 10th day of Damian’s stay, he was no longer content with the simple pacifier.

No. Damian decided that night to just start crying the second Bruce slipped into the room.

Startled, Bruce rushed over to the crib, quickly scanning Damian for any sign of injury. For any reason why he’d be crying. He even checked the baby’s diaper, thinking maybe he just needed a change. But he could find nothing wrong.

Just a crying baby, staring up at him pleadingly.

“What’s wrong, bud?” Bruce asked, placing his hand in Damian’s hair, scratching his head a little in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

Damian latched onto Bruce’s hand like a vice, using it as a way to help him climb up out of the crib. The boy had his feet half way up the side of the crib before Bruce caught him with his free hand and hoisted him into the air.

Plastering Damian to his side, Bruce looked at the still whimpering little boy and asked, “What is it?”

In response, Damian started outright sobbing. A loud, desperate sound Bruce hadn’t heard yet from his son. A sound Bruce _never_ wanted to hear from his son. From any baby.

“Hey,” he said, placing his hand on Damian’s back and rubbing, “shhh, it’s okay, buddy.”

Damian wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck and continued crying into his shoulder, his little arms squeezing as he did.

For all the times Bruce had held Damian, never had he actually _hugged_ the child. Never had Damian hugged him. So the fact that he was hugging onto Bruce while he sobbed was a little off-putting. A little disconcerting.

Baffled, Bruce retrieved the pacifier from the crib and went to sit with Damian, rubbing at his back and offering what he hoped were soothing words.

When Damian finally turned his head away from Bruce’s shoulder, allowing Bruce access to his face, he quickly stuck the pacifier in Damian’s mouth and held it, shushing the boy as he did.

It took a while for Damian to settle down completely, but eventually he did, snuggling his head into Bruce’s shoulder. His little eyes drooping even as he hiccuped.

Bruce tried to lay Damian down at that point, because he seemed close to sleep and in all honesty, Bruce was exhausted himself. But as soon as he moved to set the boy down, the hands still around his neck gripped tight to his shirt and the little boy let out a desperate whine.

“Hey,” he said, standing back up and bouncing Damian, “hey, it’s okay. I won’t put you down.”

Damian sniffled, but didn’t let go of his death grip.

“Do you want to sleep with Dad?” Bruce asked, already walking over to his bed with the intent of just laying down with Damian.

It was then that he really froze. Took in a sharp breath and stopped mid-step, his hand pausing in its gentle rubbing of Damian’s back.

_Dad._

It had just slipped out. The word kept repeating itself in his head. The letters drifting across his vision, the sound echoing in his ears.

It was… it was what he was. It wasn’t a big deal.

_Don’t think about it._

Damian readjusted his head, his tear stained eyes gazing up at Bruce as if asking, “what happened, why did you stop?”

With a pat at Damian’s back, Bruce finished his trek to his bed and quickly pulled back the covers, slipping under them to sleep. He rolled Damian off and onto the bed next to him, fully intending on letting him sleep there, just as they had that first night.

But Damian had something else in mind.

Growling at Bruce, he got up on his hands and knees and crawled back over, climbing up on Bruce rather aggressively. After taking a knee to his stomach and an elbow to a rather sensitive rib, Bruce set his hand on Damian’s back and pulled the blanket up over both of them, careful to keep Damian’s head uncovered.

“Okay,” he whispered, smoothing back Damian’s hair, “just go to sleep.”

Contentedly, Damian took a deep breath and let it out slowly, almost melting right into Bruce’s chest.

And Bruce lay there, staring down at the mop of hair he could see. The little pacifier bobbing in and out as Damian sucked on it. The tiny fist resting on his chest.

The way Damian breathed, his little twitches, his occasional kicks were strangely comforting. Having Damian in his arms was strangely comforting.

There was something nice about a child seeking comfort from him. Support and reassurance.

Damian lying there reminded him a lot of Dick. Some of Bruce’s favorite moments with his ward, the moments where he felt like he actually mattered to Dick were the ones where Dick sought him out specifically for comfort. When he came to him in the middle of the night for a hug. For reassurance that his nightmares weren’t real. For the physical closeness of someone who cared about him.

A lot about children terrified him. Raising children terrified him. If he were to write down everything that scared him about it, the mere idea of a child putting trust in him was probably half of that list, but the sweet moments that trust caused… Those moments were some of his favorite ever. His best memories.

Because the warm weight on his chest, the sound of deep breaths, and the smell of tear-free shampoo was more comforting to Bruce than anything had ever been in his entire life.

Bruce slept deeply and well with Damian in his arms, and Damian seemed to get comfort from the position. Considering he asked for it every night from then on, he clearly enjoyed sleeping in Bruce’s bed as much as Bruce enjoyed having him. And if Bruce allowed the baby to sleep there, what harm would it cause?

It’s not like it would last forever.

\- - -

It was amazing how quickly Damian wormed his way into Bruce’s life. The longer he spent with the little guy, the easier he was finding it to simply smile at him. In fact, usually just seeing Damian brought a smile to his face.

He was trying not to think about it.

Damian’s charm didn’t seem to be working on Dick, though.

It wasn’t for lack of trying, on Damian’s part, either. The little brat was enamored with Dick. The few times Dick played with him, Damian ate it up. Whenever Dick was in the room, Damian was vying for his attention. Often crawling over to Dick and handing him toys, trying his best to engage Dick.

“Go away,” Dick said two weeks into Damian’s stay when the little boy crawled over to him yet again.

Of course Damian didn’t listen. Whether it was because he didn’t understand or didn’t care, Bruce would never know, but the little brat was insistent. He held out his favorite of the animal figures, the cow, for Dick to take. When he didn’t, Damian pulled himself up to stand next to the couch and held the cow out a bit more aggressively.

“Yes, it’s a cow. Now go away.”

“Dick, be nice,” Bruce mumbled, barely paying attention as he read through the reports Lucius had sent him.

Ever since Damian arrived, he hadn’t been able to go into the office much, so he found himself with a lot of work to do at home. It was annoying, but it was less annoying than sitting through meetings.

Damian whined at Dick, shaking the cow at him.

“Tell him to leave me alone,” Dick shot back, a bit too snappishly for Bruce’s tastes. But he wasn’t going to respond to the tone. Dick would get over it, eventually.

“He’s just a baby,” Bruce protested, “be nice.”

With a huff, Dick sank further back on the couch and grumbled, “Of course you take his side.”

In response, Damian huffed back at Dick, dropping the toy into Dick’s lap, then attempted to climb up onto the couch next to him. But the baby was too short and lacked the upper body strength required to get himself up.

“There aren’t sides,” Bruce exasperated. He was growing so tired of this attitude. So tired of Dick whining about Damian, him acting like the baby simply being near him was the worst thing on the planet.

Bruce wasn’t even making him help take care of Damian. Dick had watched Damian maybe four times total, and never for longer than 10 minutes. Damian’s presence was not nearly as disrupting to Dick’s life as it was to his or Alfred’s. Bruce had been careful to make sure he talked to Dick at meals and said goodnight each night.

Dick grabbed the toy and threw it across the room, saying, “Fine. Go get it,” as he did.

“He’s not a dog,” Bruce drawled, even as Damian looked for his toy and dropped down to crawl after it.

The vicious, victorious smile Dick gave when Damian retrieved the toy and started making his way back to Dick just made Bruce want to facepalm.

“Damian, come here, bud,” Bruce said, trying to distract the baby, “come play with Dad.”

Bruce’s heart skipped a beat even as Damian turned to look at him, then changed his trajectory to where Bruce was sitting on the opposite side of the room.

 _Don’t think about it,_ he reminded himself. _Dad_ was what he was. It wasn’t a big deal.

He was supposed to talk about himself in the third person to a baby, so he’d learn a word to describe Bruce. And he couldn’t very well teach his son to call him ‘Bruce’ now could he?

It wasn’t a big deal.

_Don’t think about it._

Dick scowled at him, then grumbled, “I’m gonna go do my homework,” as he got up and rushed out of the room.

When Damian got to Bruce’s feet, pulling himself up by Bruce’s pant-leg, Bruce picked him up and set him in his lap.

“Don’t worry,” he consoled, accepting the cow with a smile when Damian offered it, “Dick will come around.”

\- - -

It wasn't that seeing Damian made Bruce smile. No. Because that would be ridiculous. He’d just trained himself to smile at the child, since Alfred said that was important to do. Yeah.

So when Bruce stepped out of the bathroom one morning, freshly showered and ready for the day, he smiled at Damian.

The baby was in his playpen, happily building a tower with some building blocks. Usually, Bruce felt like Damian was indifferent toward Bruce’s presence. It seemed Dick was the only one he craved attention from. Their sleeping routine aside, Damian never seemed to care whether Bruce specifically paid him attention during the day, as long as one of the adults paid him attention. And even then, he usually tried to act completely aloof.

He was a strange kid, but that was Damian.

However, this morning stood out to Bruce because once he stepped out of the bathroom, ready to get Damian dressed for the day, Damian did something he’d never done before.

Damian looked up and quickly crawled to the edge of the playpen, using the gate to pull himself to a standing position before he reached his arms out to Bruce and made a whining “eh,” sound. Bruce had never seen the child ask to be picked up like this. Sure, if touched, he’d often latch on until he was lifted, but never did he actually, physically request it.

“Do you want up?” Bruce asked as he approached the baby, quickly hefting him up into his arms. Damian squirmed for a second, then looked at Bruce happily as he put his arms down to his sides, pulling at his shirt. After a moment of just staring, Damian offered a tiny smile.

And that was it.

Bruce was a goner. He could feel himself fall a bit further into this trap Damian was setting. This trap of adoring him with every fiber of his being.

Because in that moment, this kid was his favorite thing in the entire world.

“There’s a smile,” Bruce said as he tapped Damian on the nose, “you should do that more.”

Damian grinned wider, letting his cute little teeth shine through a bit, and Bruce returned it.

He could get used to seeing that. He could stare at that face every day for the rest of his life and never grow tired of it. He-

He was going to have to give Damian up.

Hand him back over to Talia.

Say goodbye.

This wasn’t forever. It was temporary.

Bruce felt like throwing up. The weight of Damian in his arms was almost unbearable. The way his tiny hands rested on his shoulder, the sudden downturn of his lips, it was all too much.

Because _Bruce couldn’t keep him._

Damian wasn’t his. Never was. He was _Talia’s_ and it was so stupid of Bruce to get attached.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce reeled it all in and got Damian ready for the day as quickly as humanly possible.

At breakfast, he sat Damian in his chair and did his best to interact only as much as necessary. He spent most the meal chatting with Dick, only occasionally looking over to make sure Damian was still breathing.

He needed to distance himself before it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm bored and decided to post this week's chapter early. 🤡
> 
> Thanks to my awesome beta Kasyfairytaillover for reading three chapters at once the other day to help make sure it's all working out, despite the terrible drafty nature of them. ❤️


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied/Referenced past rape/non-con in this chapter

Bruce felt like the world was crashing down around him.

Whatever little happiness he was gaining from having Damian around had completely dissolved. Now, he could hardly bring himself to look at Damian.

And the kid had noticed.

Which, of course, just made Bruce feel all the worse.

The first couple days, Damian kept babbling at Bruce incessantly. All the focus he had been putting on Dick was suddenly turned on Bruce, as if he were making it his life goal to get Bruce to pay attention to him.

“Damian, please,” Bruce said as Damian continued to pull at his pant-leg, trying to get him to come down off the couch and play with his blocks, “you can build a tower yourself.”

Scowling, Damian tugged harder at Bruce’s leg and let out a frustrated growl.

“Go play,” Bruce said, trying his best to keep focused on his work, “you’re fine.”

The boy didn’t seem to agree, because he flung himself backward onto the carpet and started screaming. The screaming quickly shifted to crying, and all Bruce could do was sigh.

He set his tablet aside and reached down to lift Damian up. “Really?” he asked, bouncing the boy on his knee for a moment to try and calm him down.

Damian just dove for Bruce’s neck, wrapping himself around as he continued crying.

“Kid, come on,” Bruce said as he tried to free himself from Damian’s grasp, “you’re fine.”

When Damian only let out a scream and gripped tighter, Bruce gave up and sat back, gently patting at Damian’s back.

“Okay, fine. Just calm down.”

They sat there for what felt like an eternity, Bruce patting Damian’s back and Damian quietly crying into Bruce’s neck.

Every moment dragged on, each one slower than the last.

He couldn’t do this.

His arms felt like they were burning. The warmth radiating from Damian only made it worse, and the ragged breath he felt against his neck was threatening to suffocate him.

Because this kid wasn’t _his._ He hadn’t wanted this kid. He had no right to want him now. He was Talia’s.

Talia was coming back for him. She’d take him off to god-knows where and Bruce would never see him again.

And _God._

_Talia._

He- He couldn’t-

_Don’t think about it._

“Damian, please,” he rasped, because he _couldn’t do this._

All the kid did was stick his thumb in his mouth, so Bruce lay back, hoping that maybe just taking a quick nap would make everything better.

If nothing else, it would take him closer to Talia getting the boy.

Because more than anything, he needed Talia to just come get him so this would all be over.

_\- - -_

The next few days were some of the longest in Bruce’s life. Damian became desperately clingy, demanding constant attention. He only played alone for a couple hours a day, demanding to be held the rest of the time. At every nap time, he would cry until Bruce physically rocked him to sleep, and he started giving Alfred hell at bedtime. Every night, he demanded Bruce pick him up as always, and cried himself to sleep in Bruce’s arms.

It was too much. Way too much for Bruce.

He was frazzled. He was going crazy.

It was like he was losing himself.

Then it happened.

Two days before Damian’s one-month anniversary with Bruce, the thing he was dreading most happened. The one thing he didn’t want happening.

Because in all honesty, Bruce was hoping Talia would retrieve Damian first, and he’d be able to come to terms with all this on his own time. Once he finally had time to process it all. To recover. In a year or ten.

Yeah. A year or ten would be good.

But no. Instead, Selina slipped into the living room where Bruce was sitting with Damian Thursday morning, without warning.

That’s why the security system was programed to recognize her.

It wasn’t unusual for her to make a house-call midday like that. Ever since Dick had been in the picture, she was just as likely to slip in during a school-day while he was away as she was to appear by his side in the middle of the night.

It only took her slipping in through the window on a night Dick had a nightmare once to make her hesitant to do it often.

But now, Bruce wasn’t alone all day while Dick was at school. And he hadn’t even told her.

True, they weren’t ‘together’ together. Or exclusive in words or anything. But this is probably something he should have told her.

Even if it meant she never spoke to him again.

That’s why Bruce cringed when he heard the window slide open and an amused voice say, “Oh, well that’s interesting.”

“Selina,” he said, sitting up quickly from where he’d been lying on the couch reading. Damian was, for once, playing quietly with his toys, giving Bruce some space.

“Bruce,” she greeted, hopping inside and shutting the window behind her. Smiling sweetly as she crossed the room and stepped around Damian, who was at that moment pushing around his animal figures into whatever weird order he wanted them in. Bruce wasn’t sure what it was, but Damian seemed to have some method to his madness.

“So what’s new with you?” Selina asked wryly, grinning as she reached the couch.

“Not much.” He smiled as she bent over to offer him a kiss.

“I guess that’s technically true. He is pretty tiny.”

Bruce nodded seriously just as Damian started whining, tugging at the plastic box of blocks they kept under the coffee table, where all his toys lived when he wasn’t playing with them.

He had learned early on to keep Damian’s toys closed up, otherwise the little brat would dump out every box of toys before picking something to play with. This way, he didn’t have to clean up the toys fifty times a day. He really didn’t like the disapproving gazes Alfred shot him whenever he walked in on the mess.

Selina smiled in amusement as Bruce opened the blocks and went to put the animal figures back in theirs. “Is this one yours?” she asked.

As soon as Bruce’s hand touched the flamingo, the first animal in line, Damian started screaming.

“Okay, I won’t touch it, geez,” he said, throwing his hands up in surrender, “And yes, he’s mine.” _Technically._

 _“_ Well, at least we know you’re… capable.”

“Selina,” he exasperated, helping Damian dump the box over, since the wooden blocks made it too heavy for him to do himself, and apparently they had to be scattered all across the floor before Damian could begin playing with them.

Babies were ridiculous.

“You know,” she said, a smug look on her face as she slid down to the floor, her back to the couch, “it’s good to know. If you ever make an honest girl out of someone.”

“I don’t want children,” he said matter-of-factly. It was still fairly true. He had never wanted children, and while he had really started enjoying Damian, the kid was a lot of work.

Even if he were cute and cuddly and sweet and nice to be around and—

No. He was a lot of work that only resulted in more pain.

It wasn’t really worth it.

Selina just raised an eyebrow and said, “Really, Bruce?”

“Yes, really.” After a moment of staring at Damian to make sure he didn’t need anymore help, he walked over to Selina and sat down next to her. “I never wanted kids.”

“Fooled me.”

“Selina,” he said, rolling his eyes as he pulled one of his knees up to rest his hands on.

“Bruce,” she mimicked, “you adopted a kid. You can’t tell me you don’t want kids when you _adopted_ one.”

“I didn’t adopt him,” he protested, because he _didn’t,_ “he just… lives here.” Bruce furrowed his brows at that, because Dick didn't  _just_ live there. But he wasn't Bruce's son. He had been quite clear about not wanting or needing a new dad. And Bruce never set out to be Dick's dad. He would never be able to hold a candle to John Grayson, either. 

Regardless. Whatever Dick was, it didn't change the fact that Bruce had never wanted kids.  

“Do you kiss Alfred with that mouth?” she asked in mock horror, playfully pushing Bruce a bit as she did, “telling lies in front of a baby. How terrible of you.”

“Selina.”

“Bruce.”

“I didn’t want…” he said, then sighed and rubbed at his face, unsure how to word it. How to say he hadn’t meant to create a child with Talia. Hadn’t wanted to do so at all. Damian was a complete surprise to him, and not something he ever had in his plans for life.

The sooner Talia retrieved Damian, the better. Life could go back to normal and he could go back to pretending none of this happen.

Maybe then he’d stop hurting so much.

“Okay,” she said softly, resting her head against his arm, “you didn’t want kids. Where’d he come from?”

“His mother,” Bruce said, then paused to take a breath and lay his head back on the couch cushion behind him, “she dropped him off about a month ago.”

“Complete surprise?”

“Yes,” he said, blinking up at the ceiling, “she showed up out of the blue and basically said, ‘here this is yours watch him for a while,’ and left. Barely told me anything about him.”

“Do you at least know his name?” she asked, sitting up to look over at Damian, who was quietly placing blocks in a circle around his animals.

“Damian. I don’t know his middle name, though, so I put ‘Thomas’ on his birth certificate.”  Bruce had filled out the paperwork for that a couple weeks back.  He still needed to get it filed.  

“You had to get one of those issued?”

“Yeah, he was born overseas somewhere. I don’t know where, but he has no paper trail in the US and I need to get him a social security number and establish his citizenship. He gets it through me, it wouldn’t be fair to deny him it just because I didn’t want a kid.”

Selina nodded and settled back against Bruce, then asked, “Who is his mother?”

Bruce sighed and closed his eyes before answering, “Talia Al Ghul.”

“Al Ghul,” Selina said, clearly turning the name over in her head, trying to figure out why it was familiar, “As in League of Assassins Al Ghul?”

Nodding, Bruce said, “Talia is Ra’s’ daughter.”

“How old is Damian?” she asked, still leaning against Bruce. Still offering that contact. Not yet angry with him, as far as he could tell. That was probably about to change.

“Um,” he started, before clearing his throat and rubbing at his face. Why was it suddenly hard for him to talk? This was Selina. She was the easiest person on the planet to speak to. “About 11 months. Talia didn’t- didn’t tell me his exact birthday.”

“So,” she said, a hint of a smile clear in her voice, “you cheated on me 20 months ago.”

At that, Bruce bristled. He and Selina weren’t… whatever they were at the time. He’d already met Selina by that point, but they hadn’t done more than flirt. Their weird not-relationship started after Bruce got back to Gotham. “We weren’t-”

“I’m kidding. Calm down, Bats.”

Bruce nodded and ran a hand through his hair before resting both his arms on his knees. He liked Selina so much more than Talia. Sure, Talia was beautiful and enchanting and had so much potential, but Selina would never- she’d never- betray him. Like Talia.

_Don't think about it._

“Hey,” she said, wrapping her arms around the arm of his she leaned against, “you know I don’t care about your past flings, right? I mean, we aren’t really even a thing, so what right would I have…”

“Selina,” Bruce forced out, “Talia wasn’t really a fling.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, her voice careful, “so like a one-night stand type deal?”

Bruce closed his eyes and took a slow, steadying breath. “Sort of.”

“So now you’ve got a baby,” Selina said, smiling down at Damian, who had started to crawl over to them, “for how long?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce sighed, looking away from Damian, even as the little boy got to his legs and pulled at his jeans.

“League of Assassins,” Selina said, sitting up to try and lure Damian to her, “you should just keep him forever.”

"No. I didn’t- I didn’t want,” Bruce said, shaking his head and pulling away from Damian, who was just standing there, ignoring Selina and gripping onto Bruce’s jeans as he stared at him, not really asking to be held but really just waiting for Bruce to pick him up, “Talia wanted him. He’s hers.”

“Bruce,” Selina said, reaching out and pulling Damian away from Bruce’s leg, “all children have two parents. You have just as much right to Damian as Talia does.”

“No,” Bruce said, shaking his head again, as he pressed his hand into his eyes, trying to calm himself back down, “no. She’s the one who- I didn’t- I mean-” Bruce cut himself off with a deep sigh, still trying to pull himself back under control.

What was _wrong_ with him? He was Batman. He needed to shut this all down and stay in control.

This was ridiculous.

“How do you know Talia even wanted Damian? Just because she didn’t abort doesn’t mean she wanted him in the first place,” Selina pointed out, bouncing Damian on her knees as she smiled at the little boy, “it’s okay to love a child you didn’t mean to create.”

“Selina,” he begged, “just drop it.”

“No,” she said sternly, turning her gaze on Bruce, “something’s bothering you. Something more than not wanting a baby. You’ve had this kid for a month, you can’t tell me you haven’t bonded. Especially you, Mr. I-love-children.”

“Talia and I-” he started, feeling panic rise in his chest as he tried to process his thoughts and spit out the information Selina was demanding, “she- I-” he sat up abruptly and resisted the urge to put his head between his knees. He was being ridiculous. It happened almost two years ago. He should be over it.

_He was Batman._

“Bruce?” Selina asked, alarmed, “what is it?”

“I didn’t _want,”_ he said desperately, “I liked Talia, but I didn’t _want-”_

When it became clear he couldn’t control his own breathing, Selina started rubbing his back and said, “Hey, Bat, just take a deep breath. Slow down your breathing.”

Nodding, Bruce focused on calming down. He felt a tiny hand touch his arm, and he grimaced at the contact. Tensed and pulled away. He heard Selina shift Damian and set him down on the other side of her.

“Bruce,” she whispered, once he had managed to get himself under control, “are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?”

“She,” Bruce said almost inaudibly, his voice cracking as he did, “she drugged me.”

“Oh, Bruce,” Selina said gently, wrapping her arm around his torso in a tight hug, “oh, honey.”

At that, Bruce finally lost it. He gave in and buried his face into his arms, which he had folded on his knees, and let the tears freely come. It’d been almost two years and this was the first time he really let himself think about it. Let himself go over it.

He hadn’t told a single person what happened between them. Until Damian appeared, he hadn’t needed to.

It was something he was content to leave in his past, but now he had a physical reminder of that night, and for as horrible crying always made him feel, he already felt better for letting his hurt out. For admitting to himself there was hurt.

They sat there for several quiet moments. The only evidence of his breakdown was the fact that he had his face hidden. Damian sat quietly next to Selina, just observing them.

“Have you told Alfred?” Selina eventually asked, her voice a near whisper.

“No,” he answered, resisting the urge to sniffle, but then giving in anyway, “I didn’t want to burden him. Make him worry. You know how he is.”

“He’s like your dad, it’s his job to worry.”

Nodding, Bruce wiped at his face and then sat back again. “I don’t want him to. I’ve already put him through so much. Dropped two kids on him… he shouldn’t have to worry about me. I’m 25.”

“You can’t keep this to yourself, Bruce. It’ll eat you alive if you do.”

Bruce frowned, and was about to respond, but Damian finally moved from his spot, and crawled back around to Bruce’s legs. His tiny hands grasped at his pants again as he pulled himself to his feet. Bruce resisted the urge to pull away, afraid that if he did Damian would fall backward and get hurt.

“What can I do?” she asked gently, her eyes fixed on Damian.

“I just need Talia to come get him.”

She tilted her head and asked, “You don’t like him?”

“No,” he said quickly, not even sure himself if he meant ‘no I don't like him’ or ‘no, of course I like him, “it- it’ll just be better for- better for everyone if he lives with her. She’s his mother, she-”

“Bruce,” Selina interrupted, now looking up at him.

“-she can love him better than-”

“Bruce.”

“-than I can,” he finished.

Damian began tugging at his pants harder, trying to gain his attention, so Bruce buried his face again so he wouldn’t have to look at the baby.

He was drained and he wasn’t sure how much more he could talk. This was all too much. Talking was too much. Thinkingwas too much.  _Damian_ was too much.

“Come here, kitten,” Selina said, letting go of Bruce. He felt her shift to where Damian was and pull the kid away from his legs. “Look at him, Bruce.”

He really didn’t want to.

All looking at Damian did was hurt.

“Bruce,” she said a bit more sternly, “just trust me.”

Looking the opposite way first, Bruce scrubbed at his face so maybe he wouldn’t look like a terrible mess to his son, then reluctantly looked down at the little boy in Selina’s lap.

Selina smiled and tapped Damian on the nose, “Look at this little guy. He is all Bruce Wayne. His little nose, his little chin, his bright eyes. When I look at him, all I see is you.”

“Alf- um,” he said, scrubbing at his eyes again, “Alfred showed me my baby pictures. He does look just like me. Different colored eyes, is all.”

“His hair is so soft,” she said, snuggling her cheek down into Damian’s hair. The baby looked happy about the sudden affection from Selina, at least in his I-never-smile kind of way.

“And thick,” Bruce agreed, resisting the urge to reach out and stroke the baby’s hair.

“He’s warm and squishy,” Selina added, squeezing Damian up in a tight hug, which Damian lit up at, “oh you like hugs don’t you?”

“What’s your point, Cat?”

Selina loosened her grip and scooted so she was sitting exactly like Bruce, her knees in the air, and turned Damian around to lean back against her thighs. “Tell me something you like about him.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Um,” he said, reaching down and finally ruffling the baby’s hair. As soon as he did, Damian lifted his arms up for Bruce to take him. “I like that,” he rasped as he moved the child to his thighs, letting Damian’s feet rest against his stomach.

“And?”

“And,” he continued, “the way he sleeps. On his stomach with his butt up in the air.”

With a quiet laugh, Selina said, “What else?”

Bruce tilted his head as he thought about it. “The face he makes, when he’s angry. He probably thinks he looks threatening but it’s actually just really… cute.”

Selina leaned back against his shoulder and twisted her hand in a ‘go on’ motion.

Damian bounced a little, pushing his weight into Bruce’s stomach as he did, and reached out to grab Bruce’s face.

“His eyes,” Bruce continued, placing his own hands on either side of Damian’s face, stroking his thumbs across Damian’s cheeks, “they’re so expressive.”

Damian smiled, a blinding, toothy smile at Bruce’s attention, and reached back out for Bruce again.

Despite himself, Bruce smiled back and pulled Damian’s head a little closer to plant a kiss in his hair and added, “His smile. He rarely does it, but it’s infectious when he does.”

“Bruce?” Selina asked, snuggling her cheek against his upper-arm, “do you want him?”

“I…”

“This little boy, right here, in your arms. The one with the beautiful smile and eyes, the adorable face, and the cute little butt he sticks in the air as he sleeps. Right now, do you want him?”

“I do,” he said softly, his voice cracking as he did, “so much.”

“Well then,” she said, placing her hand on Damian’s cheek, “welcome to the family, Damian Wayne.”

“Talia is coming back for him,” Bruce said numbly.

“Fuck Talia. He’s yours now.”

“But she’s his mother,” Bruce said in defeat, resisting the urge to set Damian down. The urge to walk away and prevent himself from caring about this person he couldn’t have anymore than he already did.

“Bruce, what she did to you, to create him… You’re rich, you can afford the lawyers. You could easily get her parental rights terminated. Just over that. Wouldn’t even have to get into the whole _is a literal assassin_ part.”

Bruce pulled his face away when Damian reached out and stuck his fingers right in his left eye. Rubbing at the irritated eye, he said, “But mothers are better-”

“Fuck that, Bruce. You’re a good dad to Dick, you’ll be a good dad to Damian.”

Damian bounced again, kicking at Bruce’s stomach, and all Bruce could do was smile and catch Damian’s hands in his own, to prevent the little brat from poking him in the eye again.

He wanted to protest Selina’s words, point out that he wasn’t Dick’s dad. That he was far from a ‘good’ anything. That he had no idea how to be a dad, or what a good dad even looked like, but he was too overcome with the realization that he _wanted this._ So much.

So much it _ached._

“You really think I can keep him?” he said hesitantly, shaking Damian’s hands a bit when the kid tried to free himself.

“Yeah, Bruce. He’s your son.”

Nodding, Bruce tried to speak, but had to stop and cover his face again as his eyes betrayed him. Why was he even crying? He _never_ cried, and yet he was crying for the second time that day. He wasn’t even sad, now. He was… relieved. Hopeful? There was no reason to cry.

Damian set his hands on Bruce’s, patting at him as Bruce tried to regain his composure. After a second, Bruce pulled him into a tight hug. “I can keep you,” he choked out, wrapping his other arm around Damian and squeezing, “I can keep you.”

Amusingly, despite his near constant demand for affection the past few days, Damian protested the embrace. He wriggled in Bruce’s grasp and let out an indignant squawk. All it succeeded in doing was make Bruce laugh and bury his face into the little boy’s hair.

With that, Damian had enough of Bruce and started fighting for his freedom by squirming as hard as he could.

Bruce laughed again and let go, letting the little boy crawl back down and over to his blocks.

“Thanks, Selina,” he said, wiping his face with his sleeve one last time.

“I’m the best,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, “you should definitely invite me over more.”

“You can come over whenever you want,” he said seriously, “you know that.”

“Well, there’s a baby sleeping in your bed now.”

At that, Bruce grinned and stood to his feet to lean over Selina. “His nursery will be set up within the week.”

“Good.” She accepted his outstretched hand and let him pull her to her feet.

Bruce wrapped an arm around Selina and gave into the smile his lips were begging to show. They sat on the couch and stayed there for quite a while, until Damian’s nap-time, and Bruce spent the time just observing his son play, as he let it all sink in.

He could keep him.

It might take a fight with Talia, but _he could keep him._

Damian could grow up in his house. He could teach him to walk. Ride a bike. Swim. Send him off to kindergarten. High school. College.

That was… a very long time. A terrifyingly long time.

An entire lifetime was ahead of them.

But even if it was scary, he was excited for it.

Because Damian _was_ worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think! I was so excited for this chapter.
> 
> And thanks as always to my amazing beta Kasyfairytaillover. Y'all should really go tell her how awesome she is over on [Tumblr.](http://kasyfairytaillover.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce’s spirits had never been higher than they were those next few days.

And it was amazing how much babies fed off the emotions of the adults around them, because Damian was also in a great mood. He smiled back at Bruce often, and started cooing happily whenever Bruce played with him.

If only it could all rub off on Dick.

Dick came alive at night while out as Robin. Otherwise, he was fairly distant and moody. Bruce wasn’t quite sure what to do about it, but it wasn’t like mood swings were new for Dick. When he first arrived at the manor, this sort of behavior was common.

He’d calm down eventually and tell Bruce what was going on. For now, Bruce was going to keep up their routine and just give him space.

Alfred, on the other hand, had a different idea.

“Would you mind doing me a favor,” Alfred asked as he and Bruce were in the kitchen. Alfred was pulling the ingredients for whatever complicated dish he was going to prepare for dinner, and Bruce was leaning against the counter, eating some cheese he’d snatched from said ingredients.

Bruce finished the piece cheese in his mouth and said, “Of course not.”

“I’m afraid dinner will take me most the afternoon and will need to be monitored throughout. Could you, perhaps, retrieve Master Dick from school?”

“Sure. He gets out at 2:50, right?”

Alfred nodded and pulled the bag of cheese out of Bruce’s hand. “He does indeed.”

Grinning, he went to the fridge to get some of the snack cheese and said, “Damian shouldn’t wake up until 4 or 5, but I can bring him if you want.”

“No, lad. Let him sleep. I can manage him fine. In fact, it might be beneficial for you to keep Master Dick out for the afternoon.”

Bruce paused in his raid of the fridge to raise an eyebrow and look over at Alfred. “You think?”

“I believe he is feeling neglected by you.”

“Oh.” Bruce frowned down at the bag of cheese in his hands. Usually, Dick was so good about sharing what was bothering him. “He hasn’t said anything.”

Alfred nodded sagely and said, “Perhaps, then, you should talk to him.”

 

Ten minutes before Dick got out of school, Bruce found himself sitting in the Audi in front of the school. He’d given his car choice a lot of thought. When Alfred had suggested, or rather, told Bruce to install a carseat in one of the cars, he’d done a lot of research into the safety ratings of each of them.

Apparently sports cars known for speed and power, the qualities he always looked for in a car, weren’t known for safety.

Shocking.

In fact, the safest car he owned was also the cheapest car he owned. It was a car he drove when wanting to stay rather low-profile. A basic grey colored Audi A6 that hadn’t even cost 70 grand.  It was a paltry comparison to the cars he preferred.

But it was safe.

And Bruce was having a hard time justifying putting Dick in one of the other cars. If he wouldn’t put Damian in any of them, he couldn’t think of a good reason why it would be okay to put Dick in one. None of them held up well in accidents, and the last thing he wanted was for Dick to get hurt.

When Dick finally emerged from the school, a good fifteen minutes after the bell rang, Bruce had to honk his horn to gain his attention. The look of shock on his face was one Bruce would cherish forever. He’d surprised Dick, and in a pleasant way.

“Bruce?” Dick said when he opened the passenger door, “What are you-”

“Backseat,” Bruce interrupted.

Dick stuck his bottom lip out and said, “Aw, come on.”

“You aren’t tall enough for the front seat. Backseat.”

Pouting now, Dick slipped into the back and fastened his seatbelt.  Once he did, Bruce pulled out of the school’s pick up lane and turned right onto the main road, in the opposite direction of the manor.

“Where are we going?” Dick asked, already tugging off his tie, “Where’s Alfred?”

Looking at Dick through the rearview mirror, Bruce said, “He’s at home with Damian. I was thinking we could go get ice cream.”

The smile Dick offered was beautiful. And the hopeful excitement in his voice when he asked, “Really?” made Bruce’s heart flutter a little. A feeling he was getting used to, lately, with how often Damian smiled. He hadn't realized how much he missed Dick's happy moods.

Bruce smiled back and said, “At that place you like, at the mall?”

“The one with the gummy worms where we fix it ourselves?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, turning to check his blindspot as he merged onto the interstate, “that one.”

Dick scoffed and playfully kicked at the back of Bruce’s seat. “Thats frozen yogurt, Bruce”

Raising an eyebrow at Dick, who was smirking at him through the mirror, Bruce said, “Well, we can always just go home and you can do homework.”

“Ice cream,” Dick said quickly, dropping the smug look for only half a second before adding, “At the yogurt place.”

“Brat.”

The wide smile on Dick’s face as he turned his attention to watching out the window was one Bruce wished he could see all the time. Now if only he could get both the boys happy at the same time in the same room.

“Oh,” Bruce said suddenly, pointing to a bag on the floor behind his chair, “I grabbed your favorite sweater and sneakers so you wouldn’t have to be out in your uniform.”

Dick grabbed the bag and pulled out the contents, already freeing himself of his blazer and dress shoes. “Oh my gosh, you’re the best.”

Once they arrived at the mall, Bruce grabbed the hats and sunglasses for him and Dick, hoping that wearing them would prevent them from being recognized. It was early November, so winter hats weren’t uncommon, and it was perfectly normal to leave them on inside. That combined with the low-key car, and fairly casual clothes should be enough to give them a quiet afternoon at the mall.

Probably.

Regardless, Bruce followed a very excited Dick through the parking garage and to his favorite _frozen yogurt_ place on the third floor.

He watched on in amusement as Dick filled his bowl with an incredibly ridiculous combination of flavors. Bruce got a simple raspberry flavor and added just a little chocolate syrup to the top.

“Did you really get mint, pumpkin, orange, _and_ banana in your bowl,” Bruce asked as he watched Dick pile candy on top of his yogurt.

Dick’s lips twitched as he moved to the gummy worm bin and started picking them out one by one. “Yes.”

“How many worms do you need?”

“All of them,” Dick said, adding his 10th to his bowl. At that point he was out of room, what with all the m&ms, Oreos, and sprinkles he had already added. His ice cream was no longer visible under the nauseating mountain of sweets.

“There is no way you’re going to finish that.”

“Can you put some gummy worms on yours?” Dick asked, looking up at Bruce with his sweetest smile. The one Bruce knew Dick used to get his way.

“No way,” he said, picking his bowl up out of Dick’s reach, “keep those things away from me.”

“ _Please,_ Bruce? You don’t have to eat them, I will.”

“Tell you what,” he said, lightly pushing Dick toward the cashier so they could pay for the treats, “ _if_ you don’t throw up, we’ll stop by the gas station on the way home and I’ll buy you an entire bag of gummy worms to hide from Alfred.”

“Deal,” Dick said seriously, turning his attention to the cashier to have his bowl weighed.

Dick only ate about a fourth of his yogurt, claiming he ‘didn’t like’ the flavors outside the mint, so he ‘definitely was still good for those gummy worms later.’ All Bruce could do was be amused by the little brat.

Once they were done, they decided to walk around the mall for a bit and hit whatever stores they thought looked interesting. The first store Dick wanted to go into was the movie store, claiming they needed more DVDs for their Saturday movie mornings.

In the children’s section, Dick went about picking out a handful of movies while Bruce got distracted by the “0-3” category. So far Damian hadn’t shown much interest in TV. The few times Bruce turned on the children’s TV network, Damian completely ignored it. Perhaps that was just because it was all too old for him.

Bruce was reading the back of a set of DVDs claiming to teach babies sign language when Dick skipped over.

“I’m done,” Dick announced proudly, holding out a stack of DVDs for Bruce to inspect.

As expected, he’d picked mostly animated movies, but all of them had PG ratings, so Bruce figured they were all likely appropriate for children.

Not that Dick would be harmed by seeing graphic violence in a movie. He kind of saw graphic violence on a weekly basis.

“Matilda?” Bruce asked, looking at the final movie in the stack, “is this based off the book?”

Dick shrugged and made an ‘I don’t know’ sound as he took the movies back. “Maybe.”

“I loved that book as a child,” Bruce said as he grabbed one of each of the baby sign language movies and went with Dick up to the register.

“Really? Do we have it?”

They reached the register and both of them dropped their DVD hauls on the counter. Between the two of them, they’d picked out more than 15 movies. “No, I think I got it from the library. But we can go to the bookstore.”

“Awesome!”

In the bookstore, Bruce followed Dick straight back to the children’s section. Dick’s reading level was certainly above his age, but he enjoyed the wacky stories found in the chapter book section, so Bruce never said anything when Dick picked out things below his reading level.

He would try to encourage a book or two from the young adult section before they left, though.

The children’s section of this store was almost barricaded off from the rest of the store, as if it were a massive playpen. When Bruce looked around, he noticed a large play area and figured that was exactly the idea the store was going for. It was a safe place with one entrance and exit where parents could let their children explore without being on top of them.

He’d still stay on top of Damian, though. Once he could walk like some of the babies he saw in play area. He was probably a month or two off from walking, though. He was getting pretty good at standing on his own.

“Do you think Damian would like a train set like that one?” Bruce asked, still observing the babies stand at a table and play with a wooden train with the older pre-school aged kids.

Dick scowled for a second and turned back to the shelf he was going through. “I don’t know. He’s a baby.”

“He really likes his animals. I wonder if he’ll like cars and trains and stuff like I did as a boy.”

“Does it matter?” Dick asked, pulling a book out and shoving it at Bruce to carry along with the others he’d already collected.

“No. He can like whatever he wants. I was just curious.”

“Humph. I’m going to look for the next _Series of Unfortunate Events_ book.”

Bruce nodded and watched as Dick stalked off, then looked down at the book in his hands. _Matilda_ was there, along with a few detective stories. He briefly wondered if Dick had ever read _The Hardy Boys_ or _Nancy Drew_ before turning his attention to the baby section.

Damian had no books.

When Bruce was a child, his parents had made a big deal about donating all his baby books to one of the inner-city libraries. As a result, they had none left in the Manor. Which was fine, he was sure thousands of children had enjoyed those books. That was a much better use of them than collecting dust in the Manor for 20 years.

It just meant he'd have to buy new books for Damian.

Bruce spent nearly half an hour picking out books. Some were 'board books' and meant Damian could play with them alone, but others were traditional hardback books and would be kept out of his reach.

By the time Dick found him, he’d had nearly 30 in a pile. Most were about animals, but some were about shapes or colors or other things Damian would eventually need to learn.  He’d also found copies of some of his favorites, like _Corduroy_ and _Where the Wild Things Are._

“Can you even carry all those?” Dick asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow at Bruce’s stack.

“Yes.” Bruce wasn’t actually sure. Between Dick’s books and Damian’s, he might actually need help. “We’ll need to go put this stuff in the car if we’re going to another store.”

“I want to go to the toy store,” Dick said, taking his books away from Bruce and adding them to the few in his stack. Bruce was pleased to see _Eragon_ in Dick’s hands, a book he knew was from the Young Adult section.

“It’s about dragons,” Dick said, clearly noticing Bruce’s gaze.

“I know. I’ve read it.” Bruce stood to his feet and started stacking the books by size, with the largest on the bottom, in hopes of getting all of them in his arms without having to find an associate for help.

“Really? Did you like it? Don’t tell me how it ends!” Dick chattered excitedly, “Daniel William’s older sister was talking about it at school and it sounded interesting.”

Bruce smiled and carefully hefted his massive pile into the air, managing to keep all of them in his arms. The smaller board books were able to sit side by side on the larger books, making the pile that much more manageable.

“I enjoyed it.”

“Does Damian really need that many books? He can’t even read.”

Nodding toward the exit of the children’s section, Bruce said, “I plan on reading them to him. Bedtime stories or something.”

Taking over the bedtime routine from Alfred on weeknights was an idea he’d been toying with for several days. Maybe if he were the one to put Damian down to sleep, he wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night demanding attention from Bruce. He could easily push back patrol by an hour or so on weeknights, since Dick didn’t go out with him anyway.

And if he took over bedtime, he was going to add a bedtime story to the routine. He had been reading about child development, and reading to babies was extremely important, all the books were saying.

Dick muttered something that ended with ’to me,’ but Bruce didn’t catch it.

“What was that, chum?”

“Nothing,” Dick asserted, shooting Bruce an annoyed look as he stomped ahead toward the register.

If Bruce had a hand to rub his face, he’d do it now. Dick and his mood swings.

Amazingly, even though Bruce swiped his card for the books _and_ the movies, no one batted an eye at Bruce Wayne buying things for a baby. Either no one was recognizing him, or none of the employees cared. If asked he was going to make up some story about donating them. Or having a friend with a baby.

It took a while for them to backtrack all the way to the car and drop their movies and books, but once they finally did, they went straight for the toy store, the last stop, they’d decided.

“You can have two toys,” Bruce said as they walked through the doors, “and not massive ones, okay? You need to be able to carry them both yourself.”

“You can’t help me?”

“We’ll see. And hey,” Bruce said, stopping Dick before he ran off to wherever, “Damian’s birthday is in a couple weeks. Why don’t you find him a present, too, okay?”

Dick frowned but nodded, then walked away, off toward the action figures, it looked like.

Bruce had done the math to figure out Damian’s approximate birthdate. He’d just counted 40 weeks from _that day_ and picked that as his birthday. He could probably ask Talia for the real date, but he didn’t particularly want to contact her.

When she eventually contacts him, then Bruce would ask. But not before then.

For now, Damian’s birthday was just after Thanksgiving.

In the baby section, Bruce picked out a set of stacking cups and wooden cars to give to Damian immediately, and decided to purchase one of those train sets online for his present. They were too large to carry easily.

Dick eventually found his way over, carrying a tin of silly putty and a Justice League action figure set.

“Found what you wanted?” Bruce asked, looking up from the pacifier tethers he was inspecting. Pinning Damian’s pacifier to his shirt would be the best thing. The little brat would quit losing it everywhere and it would be that much easier to discourage the thumb-sucking.

“Still need something for Damian,” Dick said, showing Bruce his toys.

“Well, you’ll probably find that in this area.”

Nodding, Dick looked around and zeroed in on the stuffed animals behind them. “He doesn’t have any stuffed animals.”

“Nope.” Bruce turned around and took the action figures from Dick’s hands, since he could easily carry them and everything he’d picked out.

Dick started petting a stuffed elephant, one with ridiculous ears that made a crinkly sound, and asked, “You’re keeping him aren’t you? Forever.”

Bruce had to frown at the sadness in Dick’s voice. In the utter defeat of it all. He was hoping that Dick would _like_ Damian by now. But he still seemed to harbor some animosity for the baby.

“Yeah,” Bruce said softly, stepping forward to be right next to his young ward.

“Why? Why can’t he just….” Dick sighed and pulled the elephant off the shelf, examining its face. Refusing to look up at Bruce.

“Dick,” Bruce sighed, setting his stuff down so he could kneel down, “he’s better with us. You have to realize that. You know where his mother is from.”

“Yeah, but…” Dick went quiet, staring down at the toy, refusing to meet Bruce’s gaze.

“But?”

“What about me?” Dick whispered.

Bruce shook his head and repeated, “What about you?”

With a deep, shaky breath, Dick said, “What happens to me, then? Now that you have a son?” And Bruce wanted to just scoop the child up into a hug with how his face contorted with that statement. With that admitted insecurity.

“Hey,” he said instead, placing one of his hands on Dick’s shoulder, “it changes nothing. I’m not going to kick you out, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“But you don’t need me.”

All Bruce could do was close his eyes. Because of course Dick would think he’s being replaced. Why hadn’t Bruce _seen_ that. It was so painfully obvious now. From the very second Damian appeared in their lives, Dick had been feeling replaced. And Bruce did nothing to assure his ward otherwise.

Squeezing Dick’s shoulder now, Bruce said forcefully, “Of course I need you. Damian can’t replace you, Dick. He’s just a baby.”

“Oh.”

Bruce stood and pulled Dick into his side, offering him a quick hug. “No one’s replacing you, alright chum?”

Dick only nodded, making Bruce frown harder. If that hadn’t helped, Bruce wasn’t sure what else to say to convince Dick. Perhaps he’d just have to make an effort of _showing_ Dick he wasn’t being replaced.

“Is that what you’re getting him for his birthday?”

“Yeah,” Dick said, his voice starting to clear and sound more normal, “I think he’d like chewing on these ears.”

“Probably. An elephant is a good first stuffed animal.”

“We can name her Eleanor, and I’ll tell Damian stories about the circus when he’s older,” Dick said, regaining a spring in his step as they made their way to pay and leave, “he’d probably like that. Little kids always loved the elephants.”

“I bet he would. We could even bring him to a circus when he’s older, and you can show him around," Bruce said, grabbing a bag of gummy worms from the impulse buy section at the register and tossing them on the pile of toys, "I think you’re already the coolest person in the world to him, but that would just give you more points.”

Dick smiled and nodded. Still a little sad, still a little flat, but Bruce could see it getting better. He’d just have to keep working at making it better.

He wanted both his boys to be happy.

\- - -

Dick’s mood shifted ever-so-slightly from then on. He stopped completely ignoring Damian, but he still wasn’t entirely on board with the whole ‘new baby’ thing. He played with Damian a couple times, but for the most part continued to ignore his presence.

Damian didn’t care. He soaked up every second of attention Dick provided and continued in his effort to gain more.

And as the days went by, Damian started settling down into their new routine. He was a happy, healthy baby who made each day brighter.

But with all those good days, inevitably came bad days.

He should have seen it coming, but that didn’t make it any easier on Bruce.

Because it had been three hours. Damian had been crying. For three hours.

Bruce was ready to scream. Or cry. Or maybe both.

No matter what he did, Damian would not be pacified. Pacing around hadn’t helped. Bouncing him hadn’t helped. He wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t thirsty. He wasn’t sick, as far as Bruce could tell. And he didn’t need a new diaper.

He had no idea what was wrong with the kid. All he knew was he’d been crying. For three hours.

Damian’s crying never lasted this long. His crying almost always ended as soon as someone looked at him. Occasionally, once he was picked up and hugged. Never did he cry for hours without pause.

How did people do this?

Alfred offered some advice around hour two, claiming Damian was tired but did not want to sleep. He suggested rocking Damian to sleep.

So Bruce was trying. Honest to God, he was trying.

But Damian would not be comforted, no matter how Bruce held him, or where he brought him.

He’d tried the rocking chair in Damian’s room. Louder screaming.

He’d tried laying the kid on his back while he rocked him back and forth in the air. Wailing.

He’d even tried walking around outside and sitting on the swings in the back gardens, hoping the sunlight would help. But no. Of course not.

Now Bruce was lying on the couch, Damian on his chest, while he rubbed circles on his back. “Shhh,” he was begging, trying his best to keep calm and resist the urge to shake Damian into silence, “It’s okay, buddy. Everything is okay, just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

Damian paused for a moment, hiccuped, sucked in a deep breath, then started crying again.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Bruce pleaded. At the sound of his voice, Damian quieted again, only to start crying as soon as Bruce started speaking.

Okay.

If Bruce talking was what Damian wanted, Bruce talking was what he’d get.

So Bruce spent twenty minutes rambling on about anything and everything. He started describing the room around them, recalled a boring meeting he’d had a few days before, and even started working through a case he was working on as Batman, recalling every detail he had committed to memory to the sniffling infant.

Finally, _finally,_ Damian’s breathing fell into a rhythmic pattern. Bruce slowly stopped speaking, leaving longer gaps between sentences, then between words, just waiting for Damian to wake back up and start wailing again.

But he didn’t.

He remained blissfully silent, occasionally hiccuping, the only sign of his three-hour fit.

From experience he knew Damian was a heavy sleeper, when being held at least, but he was not about to get up and risk his 11-month-old wrath.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred’s calm voice whispered from the doorway, “How are you holding up?”

“I think we need a nanny,” Bruce replied, using his free hand to rub at his face.

“You are aware why we cannot hire outside help,” Alfred said bluntly.

“I can’t do this, Alfred. I can’t.” He could handle the good days. The good days were great. But bad days like these were draining.

Taking care of Damian overall was such an emotional rollercoaster. It was crazy how high and low he could get in the same day, all because of a person as tiny as Damian.

Alfred entered the room proper and smiled sadly. “Nonsense, sir. You’re doing a fine job.”

Bruce shook his head, pressing at his eyes to stop the tears from coming. He’d cried too much in recent weeks. He needed to knock it off. “No,” he finally said, “No. I- I’m not enough, Alfred. What if- what if I’m not enough?”

He was so broken. He could see now, just how true that was. Just how much of him was missing, how much of him was shattered beyond repair.

Parents were supposed to love their children. Love them unconditionally. Show them that love, but Bruce wasn’t even sure if he was capable of that. His parents had been so perfect. They were naturals, knew exactly what to do for him as a child. But Bruce had no clue what he was doing.

Every time he thought he had a handle on everything, Damian did something to throw him off his game. Knock him down and remind him of how broken he was. How inept and inadequate he was to be a father.

“You have done a fine job so far with Master Dick,” Alfred pointed out, “You have been enough for him. You will do just as well by Master Damian.”

Bruce uncovered his eyes to give Alfred a quizzical look. “I’m not Dick’s father.”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said sternly, “Whether you use that word or not, that is the role you play in his life.”

“I never meant to-”

Alfred cut him off, clearly predicting where Bruce was going, “I know what you thought would happen, sir, but from the start this was always to be the result.”

At Bruce’s silence, Alfred continued, “Master Dick is shaping up to be a remarkable young man.”

“Your influence, I’m sure.”

“I may feed him and ensure he makes it to school on time, but you are the one he goes to in the middle of the night. You are the one he can’t wait to see after school. Your praise is what he yearns for. Your affection, your time, and your attention. Not mine. I may be a caretaker, and I do certainly love him, but you are his father.”

Bruce frowned, setting that aside to unpack later, and said, “But Dick is easy. Damian…”

“Master Dick may seem easy compared to Damian, but he has presented his challenges all the same. Fatherhood is not an easy or smooth road. You _will_ make mistakes. There will be days like today when you just want to quit, but look at that little boy in your arms and tell me it’s not worth it.”

“I-” Bruce began, but then stopped as he looked down at the sleeping form in his arms. Damian was still breathing raggedly, sniffling occasionally from his long bout of crying. His face was splotchy and his cheeks were covered in dried tears. But other than that, he had a peaceful expression. He was relaxed. At ease. Completely trusting of Bruce to protect him while he fell into deep sleep.

Damian trusted him to take care of him, but did Bruce trust himself? Could he?

“I’m terrified I’ll mess him up,” Bruce whispered.

Bruce had never wanted children. Never wanted children because he had no idea what a family was supposed to look like.

He’d taken Dick in because he saw himself in that broken little boy’s eyes. He’d seen himself and known exactly what Dick needed to bring closure and healing to his life. And he’d known that because he’d remembered being that little boy, and remembered how badly not getting that closure had damaged him.

Because now, there was a massive void in his heart, left there by his parents all those years ago. He had no idea what family was supposed to look like, because he hadn’t had one since he was 8. He had no idea how to love someone, and he was aware that someone like him would not make a good parent.

Maybe he was making a huge mistake. Talia probably was the better parent for Damian.

All children needed was love, and Bruce couldn’t—

“What if I’m not capable of love, Alfred?”

“Bruce,” Alfred said, kneeling down next to him.

“That’s what children need, right? What if I can’t provide that? Talia can, she’s-”

Alfred laid one hand on Damian’s back and the other on Bruce’s shoulder, effectively silencing Bruce. “If I thought for even a second you weren’t capable of love, I would not be encouraging this. Bruce, look at that child. Look at Master Dick and tell me you don’t love them.”

“Alfred…”

“Master Bruce. If you take an honest look at yourself, you will see that you are, indeed, capable of love, because you already love your sons.”

Bruce looked back down at Damian, whose breathing had evened out significantly, and combed his hair back out of his face.

His son _s._ Not his _boys,_ but his _sons._

Somehow, it was sounding more right the more it repeated it in his head.

“Can you imagine your life without them?”

“No,” Bruce rasped, rubbing at Damian’s back again. Because he couldn’t. The idea of giving Damian up was already partly responsible for a breakdown, and he knew he’d fight tooth and nail if anyone ever tried to take Dick from him.

These boys were _his_ and nothing would change that.

“That’s love, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, patting at Bruce’s shoulder before he stood, “Now then, why don’t you take a nap while your infant son is sleeping. I know you are exhausted, and you will need your energy for when Master Dick arrives home so you may pay him the attention he is craving.”

“You _can_ do this,” Alfred added, just as he reached the door, “Stop doubting yourself. You are doing a fine job, lad.”

“Thanks, Alf,” Bruce said, closing his eyes. Ready for a nap, and a hopefully good evening.

“Of course, my boy.”

It’d been a rough day, but Alfred was right. Damian was worth it. Just like Dick was worth it every time he spent the entire day locked in his room, refusing to see anyone. When he’d scream about hating anything and everything and throw his dinner plate at the wall. When he’d climb the chandelier and bring it tumbling to the ground, nearly maiming himself in the process.

They were both worth it because Bruce _loved_ them.

Maybe he could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished the revision of this too late, so it hasn't been past my beta. Eep. But the draft went past her so hopefully it turned out okay? Let me know what you think. 
> 
> I think the next chapter is pretty fun, we're bringing in a new character so look for that on Wednesday! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW applies to this chapter, too.

Bruce usually took a nap first thing in the morning. Damian was getting better about sleeping in his crib in his newly set up nursery, but there were still some nights he insisted on sleeping in Bruce’s bed.

It was progress, so Bruce was allowing it. The books were saying to let him cry it out to train him not to ‘cosleep’ but Bruce didn’t want to do that. It sounded exhausting and he couldn’t handle the idea of listening to Damian wail for hours, knowing that all he wanted was to be held.

Regardless of where Damian slept, he usually woke up sometime in the 6 o’clock hour, meaning Bruce got anywhere from 2 to 4 hours of sleep each night, depending on when he got back from patrol.

So he needed his nap.

Not that he wasn’t used to going without sleep, but somehow Damian used up more and different energy from him than his normal workouts and patrols. It was strange, but he was learning to just roll with it. He was still able to get in all his training while Damian slept, so it wasn’t disrupting Batman too much.

As soon as Dick left for school, Bruce would bring Damian to the baby proofed living room, make sure the gate was closed on the door, and lie down on the couch. Sometimes Damian would climb up on him and doze with him, watching one of those movies Bruce had bought him, and other times he’d sit on the floor and play with his toys quietly.

It brought a peace to Bruce’s day he’d never experienced before. His quiet, restful mornings were quickly becoming a necessity for him. For his sanity.

If Damian didn’t take a nap with Bruce, he’d take a quick two hour one at around 10, and Bruce would get some WE work done. Then they’d have lunch together and spend the afternoon playing.

During one of these afternoons, Bruce took Damian outside to enjoy the rare warm, sunny day. With it being mid-November, they did not have much warm weather left ahead of them. If any. And soon enough, the ground would be covered in snow, so this was likely their last chance to sit in the grass.

Bruce was enjoying watching Damian crawl around. He’d pulled some of Dick’s outside toys for him, hoping he could encourage walking by sending him after the soccer ball.

Damian, however, did not like that idea. He was not, at all, a fan of being stood up. Every time Bruce would stand him to his feet, Damian would huff and fling himself back to the ground, only to carefully push himself back up to his feet himself.

Then he’d bat away Bruce’s hands and fall forward to crawl after the ball, instead of even trying to take a step.

It was kind of hilarious.

“He reminds me of another stubborn child I once knew,” Alfred said, sipping on his tea as he observed the two of them from the patio.

“Better strong-willed than a push over,” Bruce remarked dryly, offering his hands to Damian to help him stand up again. Damian, of course, batted him away again and grabbed at the soccer ball, causing it to roll away from him.

Bruce decided to give up on the walking game, and picked up the bottle of bubbles he had next to him in the grass.

“What do you think of these?” Bruce asked, blowing the first few bubbles in Damian’s direction. The baby ignored him in favor of trying to catch the soccer ball. He hadn’t quite got a handle on the size of the ball, and every time he reached out for it, he ended up pushing it away instead of pulling it toward him.

“Damian,” Bruce said, resisting the sudden urge to _whistle_ at him, as if he were a _dog_ , “hey, buddy. Look at Dad.”

When he didn’t respond, Bruce finally did whistle.

After a second, Damian turned around and kind of scowled at Bruce, as if saying ‘how dare you interrupt me while I’m fighting with this ball.’ With a smile, Bruce blew more bubbles in Damian’s direction.

“Do you think they spoke English with him?” Bruce asked as he watched Damian stare at the bubbles, barely even blinking as they floated toward him.

“You would know the answer to that better than I,” Alfred said, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he watched Damian.

Blowing more bubbles at the baby, Bruce shrugged and said, “I’m just not sure if he’s reacting to my actual words or just the fact that I’m speaking to him. He should be old enough to understand some of what I say, right?”

“Hmm. I believe at this age he responds more to tone and body language than actual words, Master Bruce.”

Nodding, Bruce said in as calm and happy a voice as he could muster, “Damian. Do you see the bubbles?”

Damian’s eyes flickered to Bruce, before focusing back on the bubbles. Hesitantly, he reached a hand out and let one of them touch him, jumping in surprise when it popped right on his fingers.

Slowly, a smile formed on his face as Bruce continued sending more bubbles his way. After popping a few more, he started bouncing excitedly and letting out little squealing noises between babbling at the bubbles, popping them all as quickly as he could.

“The book I was reading said he should understand ‘come here’ and be saying things like ‘uh oh’ by 12 months.”

“In order for him to say a word he has to have heard it, Master Bruce. And I don’t imagine you often say ‘uh oh,’ now do you?”

“Suppose not.”

“Speaking of the young master’s birthday, were you hoping to have a celebration?”

“Nothing big,” Bruce replied, still sending more bubbles Damian’s way, “Was thinking cake and presents with just us. Might invite Selina, too. I was thinking I’d submit Damian’s paperwork next week, though.”

At that, Alfred raised an eyebrow. “You are ready to face the media?”

Damian seemed to lose interest in the bubbles just as quickly as he had gained it, and crawled over to Bruce to climb up in his lap.

“I’ll have to eventually,” he said, lying back as he lifted Damian up in the air. He pretended to drop Damian, letting him fall quickly, before catching him just before he hit his chest. “Whoa. What was that?” he asked Damian, who simply blinked at him.

Then, with a long, drawn out squeal, Damian grabbed at his pacifier and shifted it to the side of his mouth, chewing on it while he smiled down at Bruce.

“Again?” he asked, repeating the action, eliciting another happy squeal. It _almost_ sounded like a laugh. Something Damian had not done yet. “You really like falling, don’t you?”

“You are not forgetting about my sabbatical next week, are you, lad?”

Bruce paused in his effort to climb to his feet and said, “No, of course not.” Because he had. He absolutely had forgotten entirely about Alfred’s sabbatical. The one that started on Friday. That he scheduled a year ago. That he’d been reminding Bruce of every week since.

Shit.

How was he going to manage Damian and Dick without Alfred?

Alfred tsked and set his now empty teacup down on the table. “If you wish to deal with the media storm yourself, that is your choice.”

“I’ll, uh, think about it,” he said sheepishly, returning his attention to Damian. Bruce gently threw Damian up in the air above his head a couple feet and caught him. When it seemed Damian had enjoyed the action, he repeated it.

At that, Damian let out a short ‘heh’ sound and smiled widely, holding onto his pacifier again.

“Ready?” Bruce asked before throwing Damian up a few more feet.

And that did it.

Damian’s eyes widened as he squealed, and he quickly devolved into a fit of laughter as Bruce caught him.

“Dick is going to _love_ teaching you to fly when you’re older,” Bruce said as he planted a kiss on Damian’s cheek and let the little boy curl onto his shoulder, still giggling.

Damian sat up, kicking his feet and pointing up at the sky, prompting Bruce to toss him again. The happy giggles were enough for Bruce to keep at it for a couple minutes.

When Bruce looked over at Alfred between tosses, he noticed the man smiling warmly at the two of them, and Bruce could feel his cheeks heat a bit. Because he hadn’t realized _he_ was laughing, too until Alfred’s gaze brought his attention to it.

“I like his laugh,” Bruce said, resting his face against Damian’s cheek before he tossed him in the air again. Damian’s laughter grew louder when he was in the air, and as he fell down it was like he couldn’t catch his breath. He looked both terrified and excited in the action, and it _was_ funny.

“Indeed,” Alfred said, his smile still present in his voice.

He finally decided to stop tossing Damian, though, before Damian possibly puked all over him. He wasn’t sure if Damian actually would, or how sensitive a stomach he had when it came to movement, but he didn’t want to test it so close to nap-time.

“I am glad to see you embrace your role so earnestly,” Alfred said as Bruce walked over to the patio to join him at the table. Damian bounced in his arms as he did, then tried to leap from Bruce to Alfred once he was within range.

Alfred easily caught the baby and sat him in his lap, completely failing at hiding his pleasure at Damian’s sudden attention. Damian, of course, had a motive, and immediately stood in Alfred’s grasp and leaned forward on the table, making grabby hands for the plate where Alfred kept his ‘biscuits.’

It was funny. For as long as Bruce could remember, Alfred had tea and three cookies at some point in the afternoon while he sat wherever Bruce was. Every single day. And everyday, he could never finish all three cookies. Bruce usually snagged the last one before Alfred collected up his plate and cup to return to work.

In all those years, Bruce had no idea why Alfred didn’t just stop serving himself three cookies. But old habits, he supposed.

Today, Damian got the last cookie, making content noises as he sat back down and munched on the treat, getting the crumbs all over himself and Alfred.

“You were right,” Bruce finally said, after he’d sat down at observed Damian and Alfred for a moment, “it’s hard to not like him.”

“I can’t help but notice you’ve made some major decisions about the future,” Alfred said, running his fingers through Damian’s hair, attempting to tame the wild mess.

Bruce just hummed, opening the bottle of water Alfred had brought out for him earlier in the afternoon.

“Have you discussed this with the child’s mother?”

“Uh,” Bruce said, only barely managing not to choke on his water as he sat it back down on the table, “No. I haven’t.”

“Perhaps you should do that before you-”

“No,” Bruce interrupted, a bit too forcefully, because Damian jumped at the tone and looked up at him, the faint smile he’d been wearing completely vanished.

Bruce forced a smile and said, “Sorry bud, you’re okay.”

Damian continued eyeing him as he chewed on his cookie, which was turning into a soggy mess in his hand.

Alfred simply raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed with Bruce’s outburst, as he continued smoothing down Damian’s hair.

“I don’t want her in his life,” Bruce eventually said, unsure of what else _to_ say. He saw no point in talking to Talia about Damian staying with him. Calling her up just to say ‘hey by the way you’re never getting him back,’ would just bring her wrath down sooner rather than later. He was hoping that by waiting until she came to retrieve Damian, she’d have enough time to realize on her own that Damian was better off with him.

And it’s not like Bruce would be entirely averse to letting her visit or something. If she proved to be a decent mother who actually wanted the best for her son. The best being growing up outside the League of Assassins, where Bruce was almost certain Damian was going to be trained.

Why _else_ would Talia choose him to be Damian’s father? If not out of some deranged desire to have his bloodline in the League?

How could he have, even for a second, wanted Damian to go back there?

“She is his mother,” Alfred admonished, “Damian deserves to know both of his parents.”

Bruce glowered and sat back. “And if we were talking about Selina or even of the random models who are constantly harassing me at parties, I would agree with you. But we aren’t.”

“And what, pray tell, sets her apart?” Alfred asked dryly.

Looking away, off into the gardens and out into the woods beyond, Bruce murmured, “It doesn’t matter.” The trees had fully turned colors, and many were starting to shed themselves of their leaves. It was already dipping below freezing most nights. They’d get their first snow in a week or two.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred sighed, and Bruce could just hear the indignation in his voice. He knew if he looked, he’d see it on his face, too. “If you did not want her as the mother of your child, why on earth would you-”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Bruce snapped, turning back to Alfred, “so stop.”

Damian had finally finished his cookie, and was now just sucking on his fingers, quietly observing Bruce. And he knew, in his head, that he needed to remain calm for him. Remain calm and happy so that he’d sense those emotions, but he’d never been that great at controlling his anger.

“At this point, I do not believe it matters what you want. All that matters is what is best for your son, and cutting his-”

“This _is_ what is best for him,” Bruce said, his voice starting to raise. And he tried not to notice how Damian stuck his thumb in his mouth and pushed himself backward into Alfred, gripping onto the arm around him with his unoccupied hand. “Not having her in his life is best for him.”

“Then why would you choose to-”

“Because I didn’t,” Bruce shouted, getting to his feet so quickly his chair fell backward. He needed to walk this off. Get away from Damian and calm down, because now Damian was shaking and Bruce was shaking and none of this was good. The garden was probably the best place to do that, so he walked down the few stairs to the grass and went to make his way for one of the paths.

“Bruce,” Alfred called after him, his voice now devoid of emotions, in the way he always spoke to him during one of his tantrums. And the mere thought that Alfred thought Bruce was throwing a _tantrum_ just set him off more.

“Contrary to popular belief,” Bruce said, his voice quiet and low as he turned to face Alfred, “I am not stupid. I do not make stupid mistakes like you are insinuating. I have _never…_ ” Bruce trailed off, all hot anger vanishing, leaving behind an empty shell.

An empty shell that had just scared the shit out of his infant son and yelled at his oldest friend, for no good reason.

Alfred just stood there, up on the patio as he looked down at Bruce, one arm holding Damian and the other patting at his back. After a second, his face softened before morphing to an almost stricken look.

“You didn’t choose,” Alfred repeated slowly, turning his gaze down to Damian, who had his face buried into Alfred’s shoulder.

“Is he crying?” Bruce asked, running a hand through his hair, almost afraid to approach Alfred and Damian for how his son would react, “I didn’t mean to-”

“Bruce,” Alfred interrupted, his voice completely hollow, “why didn’t you just _tell_ _me?_ I wouldn’t have… _”_

With a deep breath, Bruce decided to take a chance and approach anyway. He gently placed his hand on Damian’s back, prompting the little boy to turn his face out and look at him. To Bruce’s relief, he wasn’t crying. But he had that same fearful gaze in his eyes he’d had that first night when Bruce startled him.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not angry at you, I promise.”

“Master Bruce,” Alfred repeated, and the two of them locked eyes as Bruce gently took Damian from his arms.

“Never you,” Bruce whispered into Damian’s ear before settling him down, wrapping his arms around his tiny little body as his tiny arms wrapped around his neck. “I didn’t,” he said louder, to Alfred now, “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry? Bruce, you shouldn’t have to-”

“And,” he added, “I don’t want Dick to know. Or Damian. Especially Damian.” Bruce looked down at ran a hand through Damian’s hair, then began swaying him back and forth, trying his best to cheer Damian back up. Get him back to that happy, laughing baby he was not even an hour ago.

“What he deserves,” Bruce continued, “is to not know. None of this is his fault, and I don’t want him thinking he’s unwanted.”

“My boy,” Alfred said, reaching up to wrap his arms around both Bruce and Damian in a rare hug, “I cannot begin to express my regret for how I’ve been speaking to you-”

“Alf,” Bruce said, patting Alfred’s back, “you didn’t know. It’s fine.”

“-or my pride in the man you are.” Alfred let go and stood back, straightening his coat as he did.

Damian repositioned his head on Bruce’s shoulder and seemed to relax some, so Bruce put his hand back on Damian and started rubbing circles to help ease him a bit more. His nap-time was soon, so maybe he’d just fall asleep now and make it all the easier.

“Thanks,” he said, turning to look back out to the woods. To watch the leaves be picked up by the slight breeze that had started. The first sign of of the incoming cold front. The winter to come.

“You should speak to someone,” Alfred eventually said, as he, too, watched off into the distance.

“I told Selina,” Bruce offered, “we talked about it.”

Alfred nodded. “That is good. But I was referring to a professional.”

With a sigh, Bruce rested his cheek against Damian’s hair and closed his eyes. “Alfred…”

“You know I will never force you,” Alfred said, the frown on his face evident in his voice, “but you have been through so much, my boy.”

After a few moments, Bruce finally opened his eyes and asked, “Do you think it would help?”

“I do.”

Bruce nodded. “I want to be better. For them.”

And he did. So much. He wanted to not lose his temper so dramatically. He wanted to never scare his son again, to never yell and shout and throw things around. Wanted to heal and not be broken.

Because as much talk as he leveled at his rogue gallery, for as often as he told people Arkham would help them, therapy would help them, he’d always refused it himself. Because he could cope. He could manage.

He’d never had anyone relying on him. It had always been him and Alfred. So it had never mattered. Alfred didn’t rely on him, he relied on Alfred.

He didn’t need to do anything more than manage.

But he wasn’t on his own anymore.

Now, he had two little boys relying on him. And they deserved so much more than him. He really wasn’t sure what he was capable of, wasn’t even sure if he could get better. He almost doubted he could, in all honesty, but maybe it was about time he took his own advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read that and are like "wait where's the new character" you definitely didn't miss it. Because I'm very good at being long winded. And this scene was supposed to be half as long as it was, and the scene with the new character is over 2k words in it's super rough, half just flat dialogue form. So it needed its own chapter. My bad! 
> 
> But now you have a lead! About the context in which this character might be needed. Here in the very next scene of the story. Hmmmmmm
> 
> Hah. 
> 
> Sorry I'm tired, and I tend to be hyper and overly excited about stupid stuff when tired. I hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think! Happy Wednesday!


	7. Chapter 7

The true magnitude of Alfred’s absence didn’t hit Bruce until after he’d left the airport.

 _It’s only for a week_ Alfred had assured him. And on the surface, that didn’t seem too bad. Until Bruce started driving towards Dick’s school, with Damian in the backseat, and he realized that it was for and _entire week._

Just him and the boys.

Alfred had been thorough about planning. Bruce knew exactly what to do for every meal. Knew the morning routines by heart. He was confident that he would get Dick up and to school on time, and retrieve him after. He’d make sure homework was done, papers signed, teeth brushed.

It was terrifying, how absolutely domestic it all was. And the realization that he had no backup, no one there to make sure he didn’t accidentally kill one of them. Starve them to death or something, was equally scary.

Logically, he knew that wasn’t an actual concern. But the dramatic little voice inside him wouldn’t shut up.

The biggest problem, in all reality, was the whole Batman thing. Because there was no way in hell he could leave Damian home alone while they patrolled. While Gotham _probably_ wouldn’t go to shit if he took a week off, Dick was going to be pissed, not getting to patrol. The kid cherished his Friday and Saturday nights.

Bruce considered briefly calling up Selina and seeing if she’d be willing to babysit. He could pay her well, but he wasn’t sure if that was something he could ask of their relationship. Just because she was okay with Damian existing didn’t mean she wanted to watch him. And she was an adult, she was Catwoman, she had things to do at night, too.

His other option was to call her up and let her know he’d be absent for the next week, so maybe she could keep a bit of an eye out on Gotham. That seemed like an equally bad idea, though, but what other options did he have? He didn’t know any other vigilantes in Gotham.

Alfred had suggested letting the Justice League know about his predicament, or just alerting them to his absence and request the League watch over Gotham for him, but that was even _less_ appealing than calling up Selina.

The Justice League was still relatively new. He’d had Robin longer than he’d been a member of the League. While he didn’t exactly distrust any of the members, he wasn’t fully ready to trust all of them, either. And none of them knew how to handle Gotham.

In the end, he had decided to just inform Selina about what was going on and hope Dick didn’t get too angry with him.

“Hey, chum,” Bruce said softly as Dick slipped into the backseat once school let out. Damian was fast asleep in his carseat, and he was hoping to keep it that way.

Dick’s eyes flickered to Damian and then back up to Bruce before he mimicked Bruce’s tone and said, “Hey, Bruce. So Alfred is gone?”

“Yep. Just us for a whole week.”

Bruce glanced back at Dick through the mirror just in time to catch him smile, ever so slightly, as he glanced back down at Damian.

Maybe it would all work out.  If nothing else, surely he and his boys could have some fun.

\- - -

Somehow, the afternoon and evening went by without incident. Damian was rather well behaved, almost exceptionally so, and went down to bed easily. After that, Bruce went to the cave to work.

Dick, thankfully, was understanding of their predicament. Even with his dislike of Damian, he understood that keeping Damian safe was important, and was willing to give up their patrol for that.

He was a good kid.

Also, it probably helped that Bruce also wasn’t going on patrol, and they were spending the night together in the cave, training.

Bruce was teaching Dick about DNA, hoping that he’d catch on and be able to run DNA analyses in the near future. He was a bright boy and was grasping the concepts thrown at him with remarkable ease.

It was while monitoring Dick try to determine if the hair Bruce gave him to analyze was his own or Bruce’s that an alert popped up on the Batcomputer.

The batsignal was lit.

Because _of course_ it was.

“Dammit,” he said, switching his screen away from the case files he was slowly sifting through while Dick worked.

Options. He needed options.

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving Dick with Damian. Then again, Damian was asleep, and should stay that way for at least several more hours. And he could always call Selina to see if she’d be willing to come over…

This was an emergency and she'd be understanding, right?

And, if all Gordon wanted was to hand Bruce some case files, it wouldn't even take long.  Plus, with Damian asleep, she wouldn't even have to  _do_ anything.

Deciding on that, he quickly dialed her number from his cell phone, already hacking into the GCPD to see if he could figure out what Gordon wanted without going over.

But after six rings, he got sent to voicemail. And he couldn’t seem to find anything on the servers that would warrant calling in Batman. Which meant this wasn’t a case they’d hit a dead end on. It was an emergency, and leaving Dick alone with Damian was probably not an option.

Picking up case files would have taken him an hour at most, and then could have been worked on from the cave. Dealing with an emergency might take all night. And that was just too long to leave a baby in the care of an 11-year-old.

Even a sleeping baby.

“What’s going on?” Dick asked, skipping over to stand next to Bruce, staring up at the screens.

“Signal’s lit.”

Dick nodded and watched as Bruce pulled up Gordon’s cell phone number. If Bruce couldn’t go see Gordon in person, he could at least call and see what was going on.

The batcomputer was equipped to make untraceable calls, so Bruce used that and waited for the commissioner to pick up.

“ _Jim Gordon,”_ came the gruff answer, and Bruce could already tell from the tense weariness in his voice that whatever was happening wasn’t good.

Bruce looked down at Dick, who was wearing the same uneasy frown as him. “Talk.”

“ _Batman? How’d you get this number? You know what, never mind. There’s been a breakout at Arkham Asylum._ ”

“Who?” Bruce demanded. This wasn’t good. Some of Arkham’s inmates could only be captured by Batman, and right now Batman was grounded.

_“Joker.”_

_Shit_ Bruce thought. “My hands are a little full, at the moment,” he said honestly, looking down at Dick, who was now frowning harder.

Then, as if on cue, because it was exactly what the night needed, the baby monitor Bruce had on the desk allowed Damian’s scream to be heard.

_Shit._

Because of course Damian would choose tonight as the night to wake up randomly.

Muting the mic and the call, Bruce quickly turned the sound down on the monitor and said to Dick, “Can you go see what’s wrong?”

“Okay,” Dick said, reluctantly, as he turned toward the stairs, almost dragging his feet as he went. Bruce had to bite down his frustration at Dick and his attitude.

 _At least he’s going_ he told himself.

“Keep the gate shut and don’t let him out of his room,” Bruce added. The very last thing the night needed was Dick and Damian tumbling down the cave stairs, and that was all Bruce could see in his head when thinking about Dick carrying Damian around.

Bruce had to shake his head and refocus. _When had he become such a dad?_

He started running all the possible scenarios for the night. He could try Selina again. He could try and trust Dick with Damian. He could just tell Gordon that his men would have to deal with this themselves.

None of those options were very appealing. It would take a while for Selina to get there, if she even picked up. Leaving Dick in charge was probably actually illegal. And obviously Gordon c _ouldn’t_ handle it.

Rubbing at his face, Bruce realized what his only option was.

He’d need to call in outside help.

And he was never going to live it down, either.

Bruce pulled out his cell phone and dialed the one person he trusted with this. The only person he _could_ trust with this.

 _“Clark Kent,”_ the voice answered, and Bruce did roll his eyes at that. Because there was no way Clark didn’t know who was calling. He had used his normal cell phone, after all. Even if it was heavily encrypted, Clark’s phone still would have told him it was Bruce calling.

“Clark. I’m cashing in one of those favors you owe me.”

They had been friends for maybe a year. If he could use that word. It’d been over a year since they figured out each other’s identities, and about a year since they founded the Justice League, along side Flash, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, and Aquaman.

In that year, Bruce had offered his help multiple times, outside official JL business. Or, rather, he’d inserted himself in the middle of Clark’s cases, when necessary. Usually when kryptonite was involved. After each instance, Clark always said something along the lines of “I owe you one.”

“ _The world must be ending_ ,” Clark said, laughing.

Bruce scoffed. Because if the world were ending, he would have called in the League. Not just Clark. “The Joker escaped Arkham Asylum.”

 _“And you need my help? What’s wrong with you, are you injured?”_ The concern in Clark’s voice was strangely touching, but also annoying.

“No, I am not injured. Alfred is out of town and I can’t leave my son alone. I need someone to watch him.”

_“So, you want me to babysit Robin? I thought you usually brought him with you on these sorts of things.”_

Bruce grimaced, incredibly thankful Dick was not down there to hear Clark refer to him as Bruce’s son. Because even if Bruce did kind of see him that way, he knew _Dick_ didn’t see himself that way, and wouldn’t take to the term well.

“Not Dick, Damian.”

_“Who is Damian? Did you pick up another kid? I don’t recall seeing this in the paper.”_

“Damian is my son. He’s a year old and I can’t leave him alone while we chase down the Joker and Dick is far too young to babysit.”

_“So, you want me to watch a baby while you go catch a criminal. Why don’t I just grab the Joker and you can stay with your kid.”_

_“No metas in Gotham.”_ Clark mocked as Bruce said the same phrase.

For as funny of a joke as it was, Bruce had a good reason for it. Clark had _no idea_ how to handle the Gotham Rogues. And Superman on any one of the toxins and gasses the rogues liked to use was a recipe for disaster. They had no idea how his alien physiology would react, and the last thing Bruce needed was an evil Clark to deal with on top of Joker and a lack of babysitter.

“Come to the cave, I need to finish a call with the commissioner. “

Bruce hung up before Clark could respond, then unmuted his call with Jim.

_“-rtant. You can’t just put me on hold, dammit.”_

“I will be there in thirty minutes,” he said in his Batman growl just before he hung up on Jim, too.

“You know,” Clark said, just as he appeared in the cave wearing civilian clothes, “hanging up on people is rude. But I’m glad to see it’s not just me you do it to.”

“Clark,” he greeted, motioning for him to follow as he went to the stairs.

“Bruce. When were you gonna tell me you had another kid? Seems like something a guy tells his best friend.”

“It was very sudden. I’m still processing.”

Clark snorted and asked, “Who’s the mom?”

“Talia.”

“Wow. That’s, uh. Huh. Interesting.”

He already regretted inviting Clark into this.

Bruce led them through the halls to Damian’s room, where Damian and Dick were laying on the ground in the little pillow nest they had set up for Damian to play in. It was where they often read books together.

It was actually really cute to see the two of them together like that.

Damian looked miserable, though. He was still crying, but not audibly, and his nose and eyes were bright red, the rest of his face pale. Dick was lying next to him, rubbing his back, and shushing him.

“I think he’s sick,” Dick said as soon as Bruce stepped inside, then leapt to his feet when Clark followed, “Clark!”

Damian scowled at Dick’s sudden screech, then started crying again as Bruce picked him up.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Bruce asked as he put his hand against Damian’s forehead. He had seemed fine before bed. Maybe a little more subdued than normal, but he hadn’t seemed sick. His forehead was warm, however, and he was obviously miserable. Damian pushed Bruce’s hand away and snuggled down into his shoulder, whining pitifully as he did.

Bruce ignored Clark and Dick chatting while he went and pulled out the infant Motrin to give to Damian. It was the least he could do until he got back. He kind of felt even worse about leaving Damian with Clark, but this was really his only option at the moment.

After forcing the proper dose into Damian’s mouth, he walked over to Clark and held Damian out, who tried his best to cling to Bruce. “He should fall asleep again soon if you hold him. Sorry about this, I didn’t know he was sick until just now.”

Clark hesitantly took Damian and nodded, “I’m sure we’ll manage.”

“Dick, go get changed. We’re leaving in 10 minutes.” When Dick grinned widely and skipped out of the room, shouting ‘yes!’ as he went, Bruce turned to Clark and added, “He shouldn’t get hungry, but you can give him cheerios if he does. There’s a sippy cup in his crib for water. Diapers and such over there for that. Uh,” Bruce said, looking around, “and I’ll have my comm on, so if you have questions just ask.”

Damian was staring at Bruce pleadingly, and when Bruce walked forward to give Damian a pat on the head before he left, Damian reached his hands out for Bruce to take him back and whined.

“Hey,” he said, taking Damian’s hands in his own and pushing them back at his little body, “it’s okay. Clark will take good care of you, and I’ll be back later.”

And maybe Damian could understand speech, because he started crying at Bruce’s words, and all Bruce could do was plant a kiss in his hair and say, “Dad will be back soon, kiddo.”

When Clark just smirked at Bruce, he had to add, “Shut up Clark,” as he left the room. He had eight minutes to suit up and get going on this case. But it was hard to ignore the desperate wailing coming from Damian’s room.

Because the look Damian had given him was one of utter betrayal. And his cries now weren’t from fear of Clark or misery from being sick, but from confusion and pain at Bruce just walking off, like he'd never done before when Damian asked to be held.

It was almost enough to make him turn around and say ‘never mind I changed my mind, you go find the Joker.’ _Almost._ He knew in his head that Damian would be fine, and it was better for everyone. For the entire city, if Batman were the one to capture the Joker. Not Superman.

But it still hurt. Knowing his son was so unhappy. But Damian was a baby, right? He’d forgive Bruce. He’d forget all about this. And Bruce would be home as soon as he could.

_When had he become such a dad?_

_\- - -_

It took four hours to find and capture the Joker.

Which, actually, was really fast. In the past it has taken days to accomplish such a feat. But this time the guards knew immediately that the Joker had escaped, which meant he did not have the time to go to ground like he usually did. That, combined with his habit of running toward the abandoned amusement park meant finding him was really a piece of cake.

And the fight had been anything but interesting. In fact, Bruce only punched him _twice_ before he went down.

Robin was still so excited about finishing the case on the way back, despite the mundaneness of it.

“Did you see me?” Dick chattered, “I jumped in and was like ‘jokes on you joker’ and kicked him in the head. He was so shocked!”

“Yes, I did,” Bruce said, allowing a slight smile to tug at his lips as he drove, “glad you had fun.”

Dick turned curiously and raised an eyebrow at Bruce, causing Bruce to mimic the expression back.

“What?” Bruce asked, refocusing on the road.

Shrugging, Dick said, “Nothing. You’re different.”

“Different?”

“Yeah,” Dick said, frowning now as his face pinched in thought, “since Damian got here.”

That was probably true. Probably definitely. But Bruce was still curious what Dick saw. “Different how?”

“You’re,” he said, then stopped, frowning. And Bruce had to frown, too.

“Dick?”

“Damian makes you happy.”

“Yeah?” he asked, unsure why such a revelation would make Dick upset. Dick wasn’t the kind of kid to be _mad_ others were happy. When Dick nodded, Bruce asked, “is that a bad thing?”

“No,” Dick said hurriedly, “no it’s good. It’s… it’s good.”

Bruce frowned at the way Dick seemed to curl in on himself, completely embarrassed. “Dick, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said, refusing to look over or meet Bruce’s eyes.

And Bruce studied him as much as he could, while still keeping his eyes on the road. He just didn’t _get_ Dick sometimes.

Somedays he seemed so happy, so content with life. But others he was insecure or moody. And lately, he was only happy while out as Robin.

Bruce rarely saw _Dick Grayson_ smile anymore. Despite his assurance that he wanted Dick. Despite all the effort he was putting into _showing_ Dick he was wanted.

For whatever reason, Dick just wasn’t believing him.

And then it clicked.

Babies responded to tone and actions. Children, though? Children liked hearing words.

“Hey,” he said, reaching his hand out to place on Dick’s shoulder, “you make me happy, too.”

“I do?” Dick asked, a hint of hope in his voice, not completely drowned out by the sadness.

“Of course,” he said, squeezing Dick’s shoulder before letting go, “Ask Alfred if you don’t believe me.”

“Okay,” Dick said, nodding a little. Relaxing some.

And Bruce was struck with the sudden urge to say something he’d never said. Not since he was a little child. “I-” he started, but the words got caught in his throat.

Because for as much as they were true, more true with each day, he was afraid to say them. To tell Dick. Because Dick didn’t want a new dad. He wanted a friend in Bruce. A partner. And Bruce needed to respect that.

Dick raised an eyebrow, and shook his head, asking Bruce to finish the sentence.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Bruce finished lamely.

Even if the words felt flat in Bruce’s mouth. Inadequate. Dick ate them right up. He beamed at Bruce, giving him one of Bruce’s favorite smiles before saying, “Me too.”

\- - -

Once home, Bruce showered off as quickly as he could and changed into sweats, sending Dick off to get ready for bed himself with the promise of saying goodnight before he went to sleep.

Bruce was antsy to check on Damian. Clark didn’t contact him once during the night, so he assumed everything had gone well. Damian was probably asleep, and Clark off watching TV or reading or something.

Instead, though, he found Clark sitting in the rocking chair in the upstairs living room, looking absolutely frazzled.

Damian was asleep, all right, but angrily, it seemed. Bruce wasn’t even aware Damian could remain angry in his sleep, but here they were.

Bruce approached silently, trying his best not to disturb Damian, but as soon as he got three feet into the room, Damian’s head snapped up and he glared at Bruce.

_Glared._

His son was glaring at him. It was both absolutely hilarious and kind of hurtful all at the same time.

“How long have you had him?” Clark asked, standing to pass Damian back.

“A couple months,” he said, reaching out to take Damian. But Damian growled and pulled away from Bruce’s reach, burying his face back into Clark’s chest. “Are you mad at Dad, Damian?”

Clark huffed a quick laugh as he let go of Damian completely, allowing Bruce to pull him off. “I assume you got the Joker?”

Damian twisted in Bruce’s hold and started crying, trying his best to free himself. “Hm,” he said, nodding, as he flipped Damian back around and kissed the top of his head, “thanks for watching him.” Damian relaxed slightly at the affection, but still wasn’t happy.

"Hey," he whispered into Damian's hair, "it's okay, buddy.  You know I'll always come back, right?"

Even if Damian didn't react to the words, Clark did, offering a smile before saying, “I don’t know how you’ve managed for two months. I’m beat after four hours.”

“He’s not usually this difficult,” Bruce said, walking Clark out, “I think he’s just sick.” As if following along with the conversation, Damian snuggled down against Bruce, whining a little to remind them of how upset he was.

“Poor little guy.”

“You should meet him when he’s not tired and miserable,” Bruce said, as they reached the front door.

“That’d be nice.”

“The Saturday after Thanksgiving,” Bruce said, opening the front door, “we’re having a birthday party for him at noon. As of now it’s just us and Selina. You’re welcome to join us.”

Clark smiled one of his insufferably genuine smiles and said, “Thanks, Bruce. I think I will.”

Nodding, Bruce said, “Bring that reporter with you. If you want.”

With another smile, Clark said, “Maybe,” as he zipped off. Damian startled slightly at the sudden disappearance, then looked up at Bruce.

“Why don’t we go say goodnight to your,” Bruce started, then quickly corrected, “uh to Dick, yeah? Then it’s off to bed for us.”

Damian let out another pitiful cry and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck. “I know, buddy.”

Bruce found Dick in his room, emerging from his bathroom with freshly washed hair, a smile on his face as soon as he saw Bruce.

“Brush your teeth?” Bruce asked, stepping inside and pulling the covers back on Dick’s bed.

Dick’s face scrunched a little at the gesture, then softened as he bounced up onto the bed and under the blanket. “Of course I did, you don’t have to ask every night.”

“Just making sure, chum,” he said, pulling the blanket back over Dick. Damian stayed snuggled there in Bruce’s arms, his own still wrapped tightly around Bruce’s neck, but he did turn his head out so he could watch Dick.

Once Dick was settled, Bruce combed his hair back out of his face and started to lean down, then caught himself.

Again.

God what was wrong with him tonight.

“Good night,” he murmured, patting Dick’s head instead.

Dick frowned for a second, before he turned to his side and snuggled down into the blankets and pillow. “Night, Bruce.”

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered as he closed Dick’s door, then said to Damian, “All right, buddy. Let’s go to bed.”

Bruce let Damian sleep in his favorite spot, right on his chest, just in hopes of having a peaceful night.

And as Damian drifted off to sleep, he thought about how much Dick was right. How different his life was, now that Damian was in it.

Even with his near slip-ups that night with Dick, he honestly couldn’t see a way it was different for the worse. He’d just have to get better at keeping his two boys separate in his head. Better at respecting Dick’s desires from their relationship.

But, at the end of the day, if he accidentally tucked Dick in like a little child and called him ‘son,’ it probably wouldn’t be the end of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been working on this all day long, and I suspect this chapter will get revised eventually. I'm not sure about it's flow and such, but I like the content of it. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'm sorry I don't answer comments as much as I should, but I promise I read each and every one and appreciate you all.


	8. Chapter 8

Damian’s cold only got worse as the weekend went on. He developed a nasty cough and was clearly in a lot of pain. If Bruce had to guess, he’d assume it was a sore throat and headache, but it was difficult to ask an 11-month-old what hurt.

He was only running a very low-grade fever, so Bruce was just giving him motrin for the pain and trying his best to keep him comfortable. If it lasted more than a week, he’d take him to the doctor.

Or call in Leslie. Since he hadn’t exactly established legal residence yet for him.

By Sunday evening, however, Dick had also come down with the cold, which just meant Bruce’s week was about to go from awful to absolute hell. Because Dick was a _whiner_ when he was sick. And if Dick’s cold got as bad as Damian’s, then they were in for it.

Bruce felt for him, he really did. Colds were miserable. But having an 11-year-old baby on top of an _actual_ baby was a bit much.

“Bruce,” Dick said from where he was laying dramatically on the couch, “can I have an icee?”

“An icee?” Bruce said, scrunching his face a little. He had no idea what that was. Damian was, thankfully, fast asleep in his arms, which was allowing him to get some work for Lucius done, but was keeping him pretty trapped otherwise.

“Yes, you know. A slushie, but the brand that has the real coke ones.”

“Why do you want one of those?”

Dick shifted so his head was now hanging over the side, one of his arms joining it and his legs up over the back of the couch. “They make me better when I’m sick.”

Bruce leveled Dick with an unimpressed stare before saying, “They do not.”

“Yes, they do.”

Sighing, Bruce shut the laptop he was working at and turned to face Dick. “How would I even make one?”

“You can’t,” Dick said, obviously thinking he’d won, “we have to go buy it. Burger King has them. Or that gas station across the street from the grocery store Alfred goes to.”

Bruce used the hand not holding Damian to rub at his face before he finally said, “How do you suggest we do that? I can’t bring Damian in public.”

“Why not?” Dick whined, throwing his arms out again.

“You know why not.” Even if he couldn’t bring Damian into public, he might be able to go through a drive thru. How attentive were employees to the insides of cars? If he kept all the windows up, Damian’s car seat might not be visible. Assuming he didn’t decide to start wailing.

“We can wear disguises,” Dick exclaimed, rolling off the couch and bouncing to his feet, “No one will know its us!”

“Dick.” Bruce rubbed at his face again. Obviously Dick wasn’t feeling _that_ bad if he could flip off the couch like that.

Then again, Dick was a bundle of energy, and Bruce envied his apparent endless supply of it. Even when sick.

“Please, Bruce,” Dick begged, elongating the ‘please’ a ridiculous amount that only succeeded in giving Bruce a headache.

If they wore hats that covered their hair and those sunglasses with the nearly clear lenses, they could keep them on inside and probably escape scrutiny. That mixed with the fact that Damian was with them would probably be enough. No one was _expecting_ to see Bruce Wayne with a baby, after all. It would only add to their disguise.

Dick seemed to realize Bruce was going to cave, because he bounced and said excitedly, “And we can get tomato soup while we’re out.”

“Tomato soup?”

“Yes. I need it when I'm sick.”

“You _need_ it,” Bruce deadpanned, standing to go get dressed and pack a bag for Damian. They wouldn’t be gone long enough for him to need food or anything, but Bruce wasn’t going to be caught dead without at least a fresh diaper and sippy cup.

“Yes.”

“Wouldn’t we already have some, then?” Bruce asked, heading out of the room with Dick trailing close behind.

“No, because Alfred refuses to buy canned soup and he always makes it himself and its not the same I want the canned soup.”

“Okay, Dick. Whatever, just go get ready.”

-

It took half an hour, but Bruce eventually got both Damian and Dick into the car. The real challenge came when putting Damian into his car seat.

Damian was not, at all, happy about being put down, and immediately began to cry once Bruce buckled him in. He was only pacified when Dick started speaking softly to him and petting his cheek.

If Bruce could have sneaked a picture without bringing Dick’s wrath down on him, he would have. But as it was, he was content with pretending it wasn’t happening while he stole glances back at them and drove.

Alfred, he decided, was going to be furious with him for this trip. Not only was he going to purchase Dick an extremely sugar-filled treat, but he was also willingly and purposefully taking them off the meal plan by purchasing canned soup. He could probably take out the frozen dishes he was meant to make in lieu of the soup and get rid of them somehow, but that seemed too wasteful.

And Alfred always found out everything, anyway.

Besides. Bruce was an adult and could decide these sorts of things for his own kids. Right?

Probably not, but it was happening anyway.

Damian was strangely alert as they walked around the store, carefully observing every person they passed with interest.  Either he was excited to be seeing people other than the four people he'd been exposed to in the month in a half with Bruce, or he just didn't know what to make out of it and needed to see it all for himself.  It was kind of amusing, regardless.

Bruce had never actually been inside this store before, but it was where Alfred usually went to buy their groceries, so he figured it was probably the safest place to bring the boys so late on a Sunday. It wasn’t _late_ late _,_ but it was already dark outside, so going anywhere in Gotham was probably a terrible idea.

The store was like a Walmart, but upscale, and actually had a lot of neat stuff. Dick, of course, despite feeling worse and worse as the evening wore on, excitedly dragged Bruce all over the place.

Keeping that boy on task was impossible.

“Soup, Dick,” Bruce said for the fifth time, “we’re here for soup.”

“But this store has cool Batman and Robin stuff I want to show you,” Dick whined back, his voice straining as he tried to suppress a cough.

“Lets get you some cold medicine, too. Just in case we’re running low.”

 _And myself an immune booster,_ Bruce thought, already knowing he was a lost cause. With as close as Damian insisted he be, there was no way he wasn’t going to get sick. Especially when the little punk did stuff like stick his hands in Bruce’s mouth. Or sneeze in his face.

Dick continued leading Bruce toward the clothing area of the store, sill bouncing, but not chattering on as much as normal. Sore throat, Bruce realized.

 _A Godsend_ the mean side of his brain said.

Damian coughed, causing Bruce to try and cover his mouth as much as he could, despite Damian’s insistence at moving his head every time Bruce’s hand got in his face. Once he finished, Damian buried his face back against Bruce’s shoulder and started whining miserably.

“I know, buddy, I know,” Bruce said, pulling out Damian’s cup, “Want some of your water?”

After taking a sip, Damian hugged the cup close and rested back down, content to just watch Dick rifle through the shirts he’d been distracted by.

“We should get Damian a Batman shirt,” Dick finally said, pulling a toddler sized shirt off the rack.

“We should not.”

“Yes,” Dick said, dropping the shirt in the basket he’d been carrying around.

“Do I get a say in this?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow at Dick, who was pointedly not looking up at his face.

“No.”

“Whose money are you going to use?”

“Yours,” Dick said, offering Bruce a devious little smile before going through the shirts some more, “And a Superman one.”

“Okay, that’s enough. Soup. Cold meds. Let’s go.” Bruce turned around and started toward the pharmacy, trusting Dick to follow.

He did, of course, only after dropping the Superman shirt into the basket. “Clark’s gonna love this,” he said, grinning wide as he caught up and fell into step with Bruce.

In the children’s medicine section, Bruce picked out some severe cold & flu meds for Dick and another bottle of infant motrin for Damian, hoping the cold wouldn’t last long enough for them to need more.

It was while on the way to the food section did Damian finally sit back up. He started whining instantly, pointing to something they’d just passed, trying his best to get Bruce to turn around and look.

And so, of course, Bruce did. Only then did Bruce realize they were passing the toy section. _Rookie mistake._ A lego set had caught Damian’s eyes, mostly, Bruce assumed, because it was a barnyard lego set aimed at little kids.

Damian started reaching out for the box, and once Bruce leaned him in closer, pointed at each of the animals starting with the cow, then the rooster, then the rabbit.

“You aren’t quite old enough for this, bud,” Bruce said, looking at the age recommendation of 2-5 and all the likely smaller parts that Damian would choke on if he managed to get off. Like the wheels on the tractor or the piece of the fence. Heck, even the rooster and rabbit were probably too small.

Dick finally turned around to see where they’d gone and walked back toward them. “Now who’s distracting us?”

“You’re a little brat,” Bruce said, ruffling Dick’s hair as he did, “ _Damian_ is distracting us.”

“Oh, you should see the cool toys they have here. They have a Batman doll that is so cute. I bet Damian would love it.”

“Did you just call Batman cute?” Bruce asked in amusement, following Dick and ignoring the way Damian squealed in protest being taken away from the lego set.

Instead of answer, Dick pulled a cartoon-y Batman stuffed doll off the shelf and showed it to Damian, who immediately latched onto it and hugged it close to his body. Bruce sighed, loudly, already realizing there was no way they could put it back, now.

“Oh,” Dick exclaimed, “A Robin! They didn’t have this last time Alfred brought me.”

Without so much as showing Bruce, Dick dropped it into the basket and continued looking through the various superhero dolls.

“You know,” Bruce said, bending down to pull a Flash doll off the shelf to inspect, “kids are supposed to _ask_ if they can have stuff. Not just throw it in the basket and expect it.”

“Really?” Dick said sweetly as he put a Wonder Woman in the basket, “that’s weird.”

“ _Dick,”_ Bruce exasperated, putting Flash back on the shelf, “no more. Let’s go get soup and leave, okay?”

“Fine, fine. These will make me feel better, though, you know.”

Bruce wrapped an arm around Dick’s shoulder and pulled him into his side. “You’re such a little punk.”

 _Finally,_ Bruce managed to keep the boys on track and pick up some tomato soup and some horrible looking cheap cheese slices and bread for ‘grilled cheese sandwiches,’ and corral them to the registers. Damian threw a fit when Bruce wrestled the doll out of his arms long enough to have it scanned, and he received a nasty glare once he returned the toy.

“You’re going to grow up spoiled just like… like Dick, aren’t you?” Bruce said, hiding his wince at the sentence as Dick looked up and scowled.

“I am not spoiled.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not! You’re spoiled.”

Bruce smiled as he passed the cashier enough cash to cover their purchase. “What was your other demand for the night, chum? Icee?”

As Bruce drove to Burger King, not wanting to get of the car one more time, since it was such a hassle getting Damian in and out and keeping Dick on track, he realized that having Damian public would absolutely be worth the media storm.

He was right before, in that he was going to face the media eventually, but the freedom to just _go out_ was tempting. He’d be able to take him places like the park. Or the bookstore. Or the Zoo.

Damian would _love_ the Zoo.

Once they were all over this cold, Bruce decided he was definitely going to file Damian’s paperwork. He’d email his lawyers PR that night so they could begin preparing for it.

\- - -

By morning, Dick’s cheerful demeanor had dissipated completely as his cold worsened. Bruce called him in sick for school and told Lucius he wouldn’t get anything done that day. Between Dick and Damian, Bruce didn’t expect to get _anything_ accomplished. He was sort of glad he didn’t have patrol to worry about, too.

Dick was a trooper and made it through breakfast, which was simple oatmeal for the boys’ benefit, but just as Bruce was about to clean up their dishes and suggest a movie marathon, Dick started coughing so hard his face was turning red, then started crying after. “It hurts so much,” he whined, burying his face in his arms, “make it stop.”

“Go on to bed, chum,” Bruce said, resting his hand in Dick’s hair for a second before gathering up his dishes, “I’ll make you some tea, okay?”

“Do you even know how,” Dick whined miserably as he stood.

“Bed, Dick. I’ll be up in a bit.”

-

It took longer than Bruce meant, mostly because Damian was incredibly clingy and refused to let Bruce put him down. Not even to pour the boiling water, which was not a demand Bruce was giving into. He was not going to risk having Damian flail about and cause the water to splash on himself.

Which just meant Bruce had to listen to Damian scream for a few minutes, likely hurting his sore throat more, causing him to cry even more. It was a vicious cycle and Bruce felt like a terrible father because of it.

Before he brought the tea upstairs for Dick, in a travel mug since he needed to be able to carry it with one hand, he pulled out a popsicle for Damian to eat, hoping that it would offer some sort of relief for the boy.

“What took you so long,” Dick groaned from under his blankets once Bruce finally got up to his room. He’d managed to roll himself up ‘like a burrito,’ as he always said, and was just laying there glaring at Bruce.

“Sorry, chum. Damian isn’t having a good morning, either.”

“Humph,” Dick grunted, sitting up a little to take the mug from Bruce, then mumbled into the tea, “of course you care more about him.”

“Dick,” Bruce sighed, sitting next to Dick to place a hand on his back. Damian continued chewing on his popsicle, getting the sticky drippings all over himself and Bruce’s arm, but if it meant he was quiet, Bruce was ignoring it.

“You sent me to my room and took an hour to make tea.”

Patting at his back, Bruce said, “Yes, I know. Damian was-”

“Just go away.”

“Come on, chum,” Bruce said, doing his best to lean forward so he could look directly at Dick, “that’s just the cold talking.”

“No. Go take care of your stupid baby and leave me alone.”

“Sick or not, that kind of language is unacceptable,” Bruce said, narrowing his eyes, “I know you don’t feel well but that doesn’t mean you can call people names.”

“He is a stupid baby,” Dick yelled, pushing at Bruce with his free hand, “I hate him. Go away.”

Bruce stood and rubbed at his face. “No, you don’t. You liked him fine yesterday.”

“ _No,_ I was _nice_ to him yesterday.”

“ _Dick,”_ Bruce snapped, starting to lose his temper. Damian’s subtle shift against him, however, helped pull him back down. Because if he started yelling at Dick, Damian would likely start crying.

And he probably shouldn’t be yelling at Dick.

“No. Get out,” Dick screamed, anyway, picking up a book from his bedside table and throwing it at Bruce, “I hate you. Go away.”

Bruce turned just enough so the book would hit him harmlessly in the hip on the opposite side of where he was holding Damian.

Frowning, he bent down to retrieve _Eragon_ from the ground and looked back up at Dick, who had set the tea on the table and buried himself back under his blankets, completely covering his head. Dick hadn’t said ‘I hate you’ in at least six months. Probably longer. Not since he quit throwing tantrums once a week or so.

Damian had reached the end of his popsicle, and Bruce wasn’t sure what else to say, so he quietly left the room and went to get Damian cleaned up. Hopefully he could get him down for a nap and then figure out what to do with Dick.

-

It took another two hours before Bruce got Damian to sleep, putting him down in the pack and play still in his bedroom. By the time he was finally asleep, it was about time for lunch, so Bruce went about figuring out how to make a grilled cheese sandwich.

According to google, a grilled cheese was _not_ grilled, but pan fried. Which just seemed weird to Bruce, but it’s what Dick insisted he needed alongside his tomato soup. So Bruce buttered up the bread as instructed and fried up a few sandwiches for them while the soup heated up.

He fixed them a carafe of ice water and set the two bowls of soup and stack of sandwiches for them to share on a tray and carried it up to his own bedroom. Once he set it down, he walked over to Dick’s room to see about getting him up for lunch.

Dick was, of course, not asleep, but still pouting at the wall when Bruce walked in.

“I’m not apologizing,” Dick huffed, but there was no venom in his voice. Just misery, and Bruce was reminded that Dick was _eleven,_ and felt like crap. Just as badly as Damian.

“Okay,” Bruce said, sitting down to run his hand through Dick’s hair, “I made lunch.”

“I don’t care.”

“Hmm.” Bruce paused to work a tangle out of Dick’s hair, then continued, “That’s too bad. Because I learned how to make grilled cheese sandwiches and I think they turned out okay.”

The more Bruce caressed, the more Dick’s face relaxed, until he finally said, “I don’t want to get up.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to.”

Dick startled slightly when Bruce stood and quickly slid one arm under his knees and the other behind his back, hefting Dick up into his arms, burrito and all.

“What are you doing?”

“Carrying you,” Bruce hummed, hitting the lights on his way out of Dick’s room.

“Bruce, I’m not a baby.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you doing?” Dick asked, kicking one of his feet to free it of the blanket.

“We’re going to my room.”

“Why?”

“To eat lunch,” Bruce said, stepping inside his room and taking in the fact that Damian was awake now, glaring at them from his crib.

“In your room?” Dick asked skeptically as Bruce finished walking across the room.

Bruce smiled and tossed Dick at the bed, saying, “Yep,” cheerfully as he did.

Dick yelped and struggled at the blankets he was twisted up in, taking a minute to free himself so he could sit up properly. “ _Why?”_ Dick demanded, as Bruce picked Damian up out of his crib and tossed him, too, at the bed next to Dick.

“Because you don't like to be alone when sick and Damian doesn't like to be alone at all. There's more room for that in here.”

After climbing up into the bed after them, Bruce carefully moved the tray from the bedside table to sit on the bed where he and Dick could eat from it. It took a bit of work, but he managed to keep Damian from messing with the soup while he fed him tiny pieces of sandwiches and occasional tastes of the soup.

Dick remained mostly quiet during the entire ordeal, and only spoke up again after Bruce had moved all their dishes to his dresser to deal with later.

“What are you doing?” Dick asked as Bruce climbed back in bed, pulling the covers up over his legs and settling down against the headboard, _Eragon_ in his hands.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Reading my book?” Dick said, his face pinched in confusion.

Damian sat next to Bruce for a second before finally burrowing down next to him, his face resting on his thigh. Bruce pat Damian’s head before opening the book up.

“That’s right. How far have you gotten?”

“I haven’t started,” Dick said, frowning now as he stared at Damian.

“Hm.”

“So you’re just gonna read my book?” Dick asked indignantly, reaching out as if to take it from Bruce.

“Hey, you threw it at me,” Bruce said, blocking Dick’s hand, “It’s mine now.”

Not happy about the reminder of his outburst, Dick crossed his arms and turned his back to Bruce. If he had been feeling up to it, Bruce is sure he would have just stormed out of the room all together.

Bruce just shrugged and looked back at the book, then began reading aloud. His cadence low and soothing, in hopes of lulling both the boys to sleep with the rhythm.

It took a second for what was happening to register in Dick, but as soon as it did, he stiffened and slowly turned to look at Bruce. Instead of acknowledge it, though, Bruce pretended he didn’t notice and continued reading.

But the fact that Dick was _shocked_ Bruce would read to him hurt a little. He needed to make more of an effort to do things like this with Dick.

Their weekly movie mornings weren’t enough.

Maybe he could carve out some time to read with Dick each week. If Dick wanted, of course.

By the end of the first chapter, Dick had silently moved to sit next to Bruce, similarly under the blankets as he leaned against Bruce’s arm to stare at the page Bruce was reading. Bruce kind of doubted he was reading along, though, considering how slowly he was blinking.

Carefully, afraid that he might upset Dick again somehow, Bruce pulled his arm out from under the boy and wrapped it around his shoulders, settling them both down a little more comfortably as he continued reading.

Dick remained captivated, silently listening along as Bruce read, becoming more and more relaxed as he did. His weight leaning more heavily against Bruce with each turn of the page.

It took four chapters, but Dick eventually fell asleep, long after Damian had done the same, both of them still pressed into Bruce’s sides.

Slowly, Bruce set the book aside and slid himself down onto the bed, careful not to jostle either boy too much as he repositioned them comfortably. Dick had pretty much ended up using Bruce’s chest as a pillow while they were still sitting up, so that was what he was doing now, lying down. And Damian stirred when Bruce moved, rolling around until his back was pressed against Bruce’s side, his thumb in his mouth.

There was nothing Bruce could do about the thumb from his position, with no pacifier in reach, so he decided to just ignore it and put one hand on the side of Damian’s head and the other on Dick’s shoulders.

And he just lay there. For at least an hour, taking in the moment and enjoying the presence of his two boys. Listening to their ragged breathing. Feeling their tiny moments. Smelling their sweet scents.

He wanted the moment to last forever. Not only because he knew once they woke, they’d be right back to sick, miserable little boys, but also because that was probably the happiest he’d ever been in his life.

His two boys. Both content. Both relaxed. In the same room, at the same time.

Bruce hugged Dick a little tighter and did what he dared not do while the boy was awake, planting a kiss in his hair as he whispered, “I love you boys.” Then he closed his eyes to take a nap right along with them, thinking of no better way to spend the afternoon.

When they woke up, everything would likely go to crap. Crying and screaming, shouting and ranting. But for right now, they were at peace. And Bruce couldn’t be happier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, yes hi. I did it again. The long-winded thing. So we are now at *counts chapters on the outline/rough draft* 15 chapters. Eek. Oh well. I'll fix the count here on Ao3 as I get closer. I have a couple chapters that might be able to combine down into one. We'll see. 
> 
> This didn't go past my beta because procrastination, so let me know what you think. I'm struggling to keep Bruce in character, I feel like, but I keep reminding myself that this isn't OOC it's _character growth._ But meep. When you write him as a broody asshole 90% of the time it's hard to remember it's okay that he's learning how to deal with affection and emotions. That's literally what babies teach us to do.


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce woke up a few hours later, his throat a little dry. Carefully, he freed himself from the boys, who were both more on top of him than they were not. Damian had tried to claim his spot on Bruce’s chest, but with Dick there, too, he’d only managed to get himself half there.

Thankfully, both were so out of it they didn’t wake when he slowly pushed them off and slipped out from between them to get some of the now warm water off the dresser.

He wondered briefly if he could take a shower while they slept. Damian never rolled much in his sleep, and he’d never gone anywhere near the edge. Since it was a King size bed and Damian was pretty much in the dead center, he figured it would be okay. He built up a quick pillow barrier, just in case.

After a relaxing shower, Bruce went back out into his bedroom to find Damian hugging onto Dick while he slept, Dick awkwardly hugging back with a pained expression on his face. It took all his strength not to laugh as he quickly snatched up his phone to take a picture and text it to Alfred.

“Bruce?” Dick mumbled, cracking an eye open to look over.

Looking up from his phone, Bruce said, “Hey, bud. Feeling any better?”

“Your kid is like a cat,” he said, sighing as he relaxed down into the pillows, then furrowed his brows and added, “that’s Damian’s nickname.”

“What?” Bruce asked, fully distracted now from Alfred’s text response praising the picture.

“Bud,” Dick clarified, rolling to his back and flinging an arm out as he did, the other still around Damian, “you call him ‘buddy’ and me ‘chum.’”

“I do?”

“Yeah,” Dick said, closing his eyes again.

“Hm.” Bruce sat down on the bed next to him and put a hand on his forehead. “How’s your headache?”

“Better,” Dick mumbled, “sleeping helped.”

“Want to sleep some more?”

Nodding, Dick mumbled a quiet, “Mhm.”

Bruce pat at Dick’s head and stood up, asking, “Are you okay with Damian there?”

“I guess,” he sighed, as if it were such a chore to let a baby sleep next to him, “if he doesn’t start crying.”

Smiling warmly, Bruce started, “You’re a good b-” before quickly correcting to, “kid. I’ll go grab your phone for you. Call me if you need me, okay? I’ll be downstairs.”

“Kay.”

After bringing Dick’s phone, Bruce went downstairs to answer some questions for his PR and legal teams. In the end, he had to video conference with the heads of both departments.

Since every single person in both divisions were vetted thoroughly and were trustworthy not to spill the beans about anything, he went ahead and told them he needed paperwork to be drawn up to petition Talia’s parental rights be terminated, to be filed if needed.

He really hoped they weren’t needed, though. Surely Talia would see Damian was better off outside the League.

By the end of the afternoon, they were ready to file all of Damian’s paperwork and put out a press release about it. All Bruce had to do was give the go-ahead. Whenever that was going to be.

\- - -

That day came a lot sooner than Bruce thought.

Dick and Damian both recovered from their colds by Wednesday, neither one making the time they were sick any easier on Bruce. But he and Dick did finish reading _Eragon,_ so there was at least a positive. Dick had even requested they get the next book and read it together, so Bruce was a little happy about that.

Okay, a lot happy.

It was nice doing something with Dick that had nothing to do with Batman at all. And having Dick be so excited about it.

But come Friday, Bruce was ready for Alfred to get back. His plane got in late that night, and Bruce was counting down the hours. He managed to get Dick fed and off to school on time, for the second day in a row, and had just gotten home when his phone started ringing.

And it was Lucius.

Bruce almost didn’t answer it, because he knew exactly what Lucius wanted.

He hadn’t been into the office in weeks. Only twice since Damian came along, and today was a board meeting.

To discuss the _budget._

Which, Bruce could think of seven million things he’d rather do than attend a budget meeting.

So, he ignored the call.

Just to have Lucius call again. And a third time. Without skipping a beat.

Heaving a sigh, Bruce answered the phone on the fourth call. He probably could have pretended to still be asleep, but he’d dropped Dick off at school that morning. Many of his employees had likely seen him. It was possible that members of the board had seen him. It would be a difficult lie to uphold.

“Lucius,” Bruce greeted, inflecting annoyed cheer into his voice as he kicked his feet up on the couch next to him, lying back to chat, “what can I do for you?”

“ _I need you at the budget meeting,”_ Lucius said, his tone leaving no room for arguments.

Bruce was going to argue anyway.

“Didn’t I hire you to attend all those boring meetings for me?” Bruce put his free hand behind his head and grinned up at the ceiling. He could just hear the exhaustion on Lucius’s face before he even answered.

“ _Yes, Bruce, but the board is being adamant about your involvement with this. We are discussing whether to fund the reconstruction of the California office that burned earlier this year, and several members have expressed the desire to cut the office entirely. I need you to come explain to them why it’s important we rebuild the office, none of them will listen to reason and you are always good at persuading the board._ ”

“Can’t we do it next week or something? Alfred is out of-”

“ _No, Bruce_ ,” Lucius cut in, “ _Next week is Thanksgiving and getting the entire board together again at once is going to be impossible until after the New Year. It’s now or never.”_

Bruce turned his head and looked over at Damian, who smiled at him from where he’d been watching Bruce, listening intently, his animal figures forgotten on the ground next to him.

“Ah, but if you let me finish, I was saying Alfred is out of town and I have no one to watch-”

_“Then bring him with you.”_

Damian pushed himself up to his feet and took a step forward, something he’d been doing on and off for the last several days. Like every other time, he lost his balance and fell onto his hands a knees, then quickly crawled over to where Bruce was.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Bruce said, kissing Damian’s nose once he’d pulled himself up to stand next to the couch, his face right in Bruce’s.

“ _It’s fine_ ,” Lucius exasperated, _“He can play in your office. You have one hour to get here. The meeting starts at 10. No excuses.”_

Just as Bruce was about to answer that, no, he couldn’t leave Damian in the office, Damian decided to answer for him by squealing loudly, happily, and going off into a long babble of random sounds Bruce was sure Damian meant to be actual conversation.

“ _Is that-_ ” Lucius began, then paused for a few seconds. Bruce could hear the sound of fabric rustling and a door shutting before Lucius repeated, in a harsh whisper, “ _Is that a baby? Do you have a baby? Bruce, what the-”_

“Damian, say ‘hi’ to Lucius,” Bruce said instead of answering, holding the phone to Damian’s face.

All Damian did was grab at the phone, so Bruce took it back in time to hear Lucius say, “ _Where did you get a baby?_ ”

“Don’t you have children? I would think you know where babies come from, Lucius.”

 _“The media storm this is going to cause…”_ Lucius mumbled.

“Lou, relax. PR and legal are ready, I’ve already filled them in on everything.”

_“And you didn’t bother telling me?”_

“Surprise?” Bruce said, pinning the phone to his face with his shoulder as he hefted Damian up onto his stomach.

“ _Look,”_ Lucius sighed, _“just- I need you here. Bring the kid, I’ll call down to the daycare and make sure they have a spot for him. If not, I’ll get someone trustworthy to watch him for you, but I_ need _you here.”_

 _“_ I’m not handing my son over to some stranger,” Bruce said dryly, shaking the hand Damian was gripping onto and trying to chew on, making the baby shake a bit in the process and laugh.

_“The daycare employees have completed background checks and are some of the best childcare providers in the city. The security there is tight. He’ll be safe.”_

“Fine, but I won’t leave him anywhere else.”

_“Okay, just come. The meeting starts in an hour.”_

With that, the line went dead, so Bruce pulled it away and navigated to his email app. He needed to give PR and legal the green light.

“What do you think, kiddo,” he said, once he was done and had tossed his phone onto the couch at his feet, “Want to go to Dad’s work?”

Damian babbled something in response, pulling at Bruce’s hand again, trying to get it into his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

\- - -

Bruce arrived at the office at 10:15. Which, admittedly, was earlier than he anticipated getting there. It was a production getting Damian ready and into the car, after all.

But when Bruce pulled into the underground parking garage, he and his son both looked smashing. He had dressed Damian in a nice collared shirt and slacks, or at least the baby equivalent of those things, with the pair of red converse he’d bought online the second he saw them.

Damian looked fantastic and completely ready for a day at the office. Bruce was almost upset he’d have to drop him off at the daycare instead of take him into the meeting.

But, daycare was probably better for him. Socializing with other babies and people outside the family. All that jazz. Good for kids.

It took another few minutes to get Damian freed from the carseat and his pacifier re-clipped to his shirt from where the seatbelt had pulled it off. Damian, of course, wasn’t making it particularly easy by grabbing at everything he could reach and trying his best to win freedom to the ground.

The gross, parking garage ground.

“No, bud,” he said, bouncing Damian a little as he shut the door, “they’ll be a place to play inside, okay?”

Damian let out a huff of air and scowled at Bruce.

“I know,” Bruce hummed, locking the car as he walked toward the elevators, “I don’t like being told ‘no’ either.”

As the elevator approached the 5th floor, where the daycare was, Bruce combed Damian’s hair with his fingers and asked, “Well, kiddo, are you ready for your debut?”

Instead of answer, Damian just smiled and ran his own hand through his hair, completely ruining Bruce’s work.

“Okay, messy, spiky hair it is. Can you put on that _dazzling_ Wayne smile for me?”

Damian smiled again, and all Bruce could do was plant a kiss on the side of his face. Either Damian’s ability to understand language was rapidly improving, or he was just in a fun mood.

When the elevator dinged and Bruce stepped out, he attracted more than a few stares.

“Mr. Wayne,” the girl at the check in desk greeted as they approached, “Mr. Fox said you would be coming by. Who is this little guy?” The girl smiled softly at Damian, waving a hand at him.

“Hi Elisabeth,” Bruce said, reading her name tag as he grinned widely, “this is Damian. Lucius said you could watch him while I’m in the meeting.”

“That’s right! Hi, Damian, we’re going to have so much fun today.”

“So, how does this work?” Bruce asked, wondering what the hourly rates were and everything.

“I need you to fill out some paperwork first,” Elisabeth said, handing over a clipboard, “Has he got any allergies?”

“No,” Bruce said, setting Damian up on the desk, his body in the way of Damian falling forward as he took the clipboard to fill out, “I don’t think so?”

“Great.” Elisabeth pulled out a little name tag and started filling it out with Damian’s name and allergy information. “How old is he?”

“A year next week.” Bruce read over all the things the form was asking after. His emergency contacts. His doctor. Medical conditions. Whether he’s up to date on shots….

Bruce knew the answer to none of those questions. He should probably get Damian in to see Leslie soon. Very soon.

“And are you his Dad?”

“Yes,” Bruce said, then flipped through the papers, only to see more questions he didn’t know the answers to, “Uh, I don’t actually know…”

“Just fill out what you can,” Elisabeth said sweetly, “if he’s not going to be a regular what information you do have will be enough. Is he walking yet?”

“No, but he’s close.”

“Okay, so we’ll put him in the infants room, then,” she said, filling in one last thing on the name tag before she tucked it into a sleeve and clipped it to Damian’s back, which was facing her.

Damian twisted at her touch and tried to see what she’d done, but obviously didn’t get anywhere doing that, and gave up, turning his attention back to kicking his feet at Bruce and watching what he was doing.

“How does payment work?” Bruce finally said once he’d answered every question he could and handed the clipboard over.

“Mr. Wayne,” she said slowly, obviously confused, “the daycare is free to all employees. You also benefit from that.”

“Oh. That’s… that’s great! I didn’t know we did that. Fantastic.” Bruce made a mental note to make sure it was funded well enough, and maybe find whoever’s idea that was and give them a bonus. Making sure no parents in the company had to worry about finding childcare was excellent. “And how is your security?”

“Only employees are allowed on this floor,” Elisabeth began, motioning for Bruce to follow her back and into the actual daycare facility, “and we have just this one entrance and exit here, aside from the emergency exits which are all alarmed and have cameras on them. There is always at least one person at the desk, so no one gets into the facility without us knowing.”

Bruce shifted Damian in his arms and observed the various rooms as they passed them. There were about a dozen kids in each overly decorated room, lots of smiling faces and laughter. He could only hear one kid crying, and from experience he knew sometimes kids cried for no damn reason.

“Additionally, Damian will only be released to you, or in the case of an emergency, one of the contacts you left on his paperwork. There are cameras in every room and hall, and you can request to watch footage at any time.”

Nodding, Bruce finished following her to a room that had a sign saying ‘Caterpillar room” on the door, and a window inside that showed four babies crawling around, playing with various toys, while a couple more were in swings or bouncing seats of some sort.

The security was pretty tight. It could be better, obviously, but it was probably good enough for its purposes. Talia would be able to get in and get Damian, no doubt, but Talia was a special case. Some random thug hoping to kidnap Damian for ransom would not be able to get in.

Unless they were one of the daycare workers.

Bruce made another mental note to check out the salaries of all the people working here, just to make sure all of them were being paid appropriately. He knew it wasn’t in WE’s habit to underpay employees, but for his peace of mind…

The glass portion of the door swung open and one of the workers inside, this one named Nancy, smiled at Bruce, saying, “Good morning, Mr. Wayne. Who is this fella?”

“This is Damian,” Elisabeth said, “he’ll be in here for just a few hours.”

“I usually have care for him at home, but wasn’t expecting to need to come in today,” Bruce offered, handing Damian’s backpack disguised diaper bag over to Nancy.

“We’ll take good care of him, don’t you worry.”

Damian seemed to catch onto what was about to happen, because he suddenly started whining and clutching at Bruce’s neck with all his strength. “Hey,” he soothed, rubbing at Damian’s back, “It’s okay, buddy. Dad will be back in a little while.”

Bruce winced as Damian’s sharp little nails dug into his neck as he screamed.

“I love you, bud,” he said, giving Damian a kiss on the head before forcefully pulling him off and handing him over to Nancy, “I’ll be back in a little while. I promise.”

His words did not comfort Damian, however, because he gave Bruce the most betrayed look ever, his little arms reaching out, begging Bruce to take him back. Nancy pulled him close to her body and held him with one arm, using her free hand to take one of Damian’s hands to wave at Bruce. “Say’ bye, Daddy, see you later!’”

Elisabeth placed a hand on Bruce’s arm and gently tugged him away, just as Damian started to thrash about and kick at Nancy, the woman wincing, but not dropping her smile. “It’s best to just walk off,” she said softly, “it’s always hard leaving them for the first time, but he will be okay. He’ll calm down and have fun.”

“He was so upset,” Bruce said, running a hand through his hair, trying to ignore Damian’s wails, now muffled from the closed door. Maybe he was making a horrible mistake, leaving Damian with strangers like that. He’d not taken well to Clark at all, and at least then he’d been in a familiar setting. Now, though…

“Separation anxiety is perfectly normal and healthy at that age, Mr. Wayne,” she explained, opening the door to the rest of the floor for Bruce to walk through, “it’s actually a good sign that he didn’t want you to leave. It means he has a healthy relationship with you.”

“Oh.”

“And you did good. You promised him you’ll be back, and now when you come back later today to pick him up, it will help cement in his mind that you keep your promises. Every time you leave him, promise you’ll be back, and after it happens enough times, he’ll start to trust your words and not despair over you leaving.”

Bruce nodded and offered his hand to shake. “Thank you. Do you need anything else from me?”

“No, Mr. Wayne,” she said, accepting the hand, “We’ll get in touch if he doesn’t calm down or something happens, but I don’t anticipate that happening. Have a lovely meeting.”

\- - -

Lucius was pissed when Bruce finally made it up to his office. Beyond pissed.

“Hey,” he said, holding up his hands in a placating manner, “you’re the one who asked me to come in last second when I had a baby to deal with.”

“Don’t even blame this on the baby. You would have been this late regardless.”

Shrugging, Bruce conceded the point, letting Lucius take them straight to business. Lucius handed Bruce a stack of papers and said, “read this,” as he ushered him toward the conference room. Bruce did his best to take it all in as they walked, but had to stop to greet all the board members. He kept up his playboy smile as each of them clearly seethed at him for being so late. Nearly an hour late at this point.

Whatever.

Bruce really didn’t care. He knew exactly how all these people saw him, most of them at least twice his age, several three times it. At 25, Bruce was just the spoiled little rich kid they had to get the signature of sometimes. None of them held any respect for him, anyway. So he wasn’t going to let their looks of disappointment bother him.

These were the people wanting to cut loose 10,000 employees in California. He _really_ wasn’t going to let their opinions bother him.

Twenty minutes into the meeting, fifteen of which Bruce had spent defending the California office per the packet Lucius gave him, and Bruce’s secretary buzzed into the room.

“ _Sorry to interrupt,_ ” she said over the intercom, “ _but Mr. Wayne, the daycare is trying to reach you.”_

“The daycare?” the chair of the board said, raising an eyebrow at Bruce, “Why would they need to contact you.”

“Probably,” Bruce said, standing and buttoning his blazer, “because my son is currently down there.”

He didn’t stick around to hear the startled responses, already racing out of the room to take the call.

“Here he is,” Caroline said, passing the phone to Bruce as she did.

“Thanks,” he said, then into the phone, “Bruce Wayne.”

 _“Mr. Wayne, I’m terribly sorry,”_ the voice said, and Bruce was fairly certain it was Elisabeth, “ _But Damian did not calm down. In fact, he’s resorted to biting anyone who goes near him, including the other babies. Normally we would try to correct the behavior, but he drew blood from Nancy, and at this point he is a danger to the other children.”_

“I see,” Bruce said, blinking. Because that did not sound like his sweet Damian.

“ _We could leave him in the crib to throw his tantrum, but his mood is disturbing the other children, and it would probably be best for everyone, him included, if you come retrieve him_.”

“Of course, I’ll be right there.”

Damian biting. That’s all Bruce could think about as he quickly made his way down to the 5th floor. Damian had never bitten him. Or Alfred. Or Dick. As far as he was aware.

‘ _Did Damian bite you when you watched him?’_ he texted Clark, because that was the only other time he could think about Damian throwing a fit of this magnitude.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Wayne,” Elisabeth said again, clearly distressed that she had to call in the owner of the company to retrieve his son, “we’ve never had this happen before and we weren’t sure what else to do.”

“It’s fine. Honestly, he’s never acted this way so I’m not sure what to do, either.”

It was while Elisabeth continued spewing apologies for having to kick Damian out did Bruce get the texted response, ‘ _I mean, I guess? But isn’t that how babies play? Kinda like puppies?’_

 _“You idiot,”_ was all he texted back.

A second later, he was being led into the Caterpillar room, where Damian was currently in a crib, screaming his head off and shaking at the bars.

“The lungs on you,” Bruce said in amusement as he approached. Only then did Damian pause long enough to open his eyes and look.

Instead of smile or reach up or anything Bruce kind of expected from a kid throwing a tantrum over his absence, Damian flung himself down at the mattress and started screaming more. This time, clearly directing all his anger at Bruce.

“Being a baby is so difficult, isn’t it?” Bruce asked in amusement as he picked Damian up. It took a minute, but he was able to calm Damian down by bouncing him and sticking his pacifier in his mouth, shushing him as he did. “Now, what’s this I hear about you biting people?”

Damian just wrapped his arms around Bruce and hiccuped into his neck.

“Okay, well, sorry about his behavior.”

“It’s quite alright, Mr. Wayne,” Nancy said, handing over his diaper bag, “Sorry we couldn’t do anything more for him.”

-

Taking Damian back upstairs attracted far more stares than bringing him to the daycare had. Because now he had a sniveling little baby clutching onto him desperately. And was walking straight through the office areas he usually visited while actually in the office.

No one asked him anything, though. Thankfully. Mostly because, he guessed, the press release had already gone out. Anyone who had been actively checking their email would have already read all about it.

It wasn’t until he was back in the conference room did Bruce actually acknowledge any of the looks.

“Damian,” he said, moving his shoulder so Damian would sit up a bit and look around, “this is the Board. Everyone, this is my son, Damian. You can direct all questions about him and his existence to PR. Shall we continue?”

“Uh,” the chair said, clearly shaken by the sudden addition of a baby to their meeting, “Right. Of course, Mr. Wayne. As we were saying, the California Branch has not made enough profit in the last seven quarters to justify the cost of rebuilding…”

Bruce tuned him out as he sat and settled Damian in his lap. He dug out the cow figure and handed it to Damian, who clutched onto it and settled himself down comfortably, likely to take a nap. Considering he had skipped his morning one, already, with it nearing lunch time.

And that’s how the meeting went for the next hour. Damian fast asleep, curled up in his lap, _Like a cat,_ Dick’s words had been, while Bruce listened to his board make stupid argument after stupid argument. Finally, he looked back at his phone to find a series of texts from Clark, the first one asking why he’d even ask if Damian bit, then devolving to just a simple “ _Bruce??_ ” and a “ _come on, don’t leave me hanging. you know I’m a curious person._ ”

“ _D bit the daycare worker and apparently the other babies today. Wanted to know if there was precedence.”_

Bruce had to shift and cough to cover the snort of amusement he had when Clark replied back, ‘ _I can see the headline now. Damian Wayne: Demon Child?’_

_‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me he bit you.’_

_‘It’s not like it hurt.’_

_‘Like I was worried about you. He could have hurt his teeth.’_

“Mr. Wayne,” the chair said, clearing his throat, “Do you have anything else to add?”

“Yes,” Bruce said, not granting them the satisfaction of seeing him act like a schoolboy caught texting in class, “Wayne Enterprises is a company that prides itself in putting employees first. Closing down an office after a natural disaster out of concerns for the _profit margin,_ which, as we have seen, can handle this expenditure, is not only going against everything this company stands for, but is a direct slap in the face to the 10,000 people and their families who have likely lost everything to this fire. Let’s not take their livelihood away, too.”

When no one in the room said a word, and several looked away guiltily, Bruce said, “Well then. Shall you put it up for a vote, Mr. Chair? I would like to get my kid home and fed before my other kid gets out of school.”

The board voted, all but three in favor of funding the rebuilding project.

“Well then, it was great seeing you all,” Bruce said, carefully shifting Damian up to his shoulder and slinging the backpack onto his back, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Mr. Wayne, wait,” someone said, but Bruce just waived them off, already making his way out of the room.

“Email me.”

Bruce managed to escape the building without being stopped, and Damian only stirred when Bruce was fastening him into his carseat.

“Hey there, buddy,” he said, brushing Damian’s hair back and planting a kiss on his forehead, “feeling better now? No more biting people?”

Damian just scowled, until Bruce pulled out a pack of crackers and the cow toy for him. Greedily, Damian began munching on the crackers with the cow shoved between his side and his arm. Bruce added the sippy cup to his lap and slid into the driver’s seat, ready to take them home. Even if just for a little while.

Maybe they could go out for dinner before they got Alfred from the airport that night.

Because even if Damian had been a little monster, he was also now public. And now there was nothing stopping Bruce from taking him anywhere. Everywhere.

Dick would probably love going out to dinner. Especially if they got something unhealthy like pizza. Something Alfred would disapprove of.

“What do you think, Dami? Want to try pizza tonight?”

Damian just kicked his feet, still munching on his crackers, looking up at Bruce happily using the mirror on the back of the seat he was facing to see Bruce.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry, I haven't done any proofing to this. If there are glaring errors, I'll probably catch them at some point later today when I do a read through. I've just got so much to do today I don't have time at the moment. 
> 
> But, you know what's crazy? It was on this day a year ago that I posted my first thing to Ao3. So I've been here a full year now, and that's just insane to me. This site, and all you lovely people giving me awesome encouragement and support, is what reignited my passion for writing grad school so thoroughly crushed. So thanks so much for all that, y'all. ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> And as always, thanks for reading, commenting, etc etc. Every new comment I get just makes my day, I love reading them, even though I'm the world's worst person about answering them. Love you guys! ❤️


	10. Chapter 10

The week leading up to Damian’s birthday was one of their best weeks yet. 

Damian being public meant they could go out together without trying to hide, and with Dick out on Thanksgiving break, they went out a few times. 

And Dick got to go out each night as Robin, something he was loving. He seemed to thrive while out, so Bruce was glad to give him more time doing what he loved, even if Alfred did give him that disapproving glare each night. 

Come time for Damian’s party, he was, thankfully, in a great mood. He woke up from his nap just before Clark arrived, and was happily playing with anyone who would give him attention.

Currently, he was stealing Selina’s attention on the floor with one of his little puzzles while Dick sat next to Bruce on the couch, showing off something he was doing on his gameboy. 

“This one is level 73,” Dick said, clicking through his little monster things on the screen, “but I built my team wrong and need to train up my others so I don’t have to keep reviving him to get through the league.” 

“Mhm,” Bruce said absently, watching as Selina helped Damian find the right spot for the dog shaped piece. 

“Bruce,” Dick said, turning away from his screen to scowl, “are you listening?”

“Yeah, chum. You have to train your other monsters up to get past the league.” 

“ _Pokemon,_ Bruce,” Dick said, “don’t call them monsters.”

“Okay. Pokemon.” 

Damian put the last piece of his puzzle in place and looked up at Bruce, smiling at the realization that Bruce was watching him. Eagerly, he pushed himself to his feet and took a couple steps toward Bruce, and started to lose his balance. Selina quickly caught him, helping him stay standing, before Damian batted away her hands and kept going. 

“Look at you,” Bruce said, leaning forward to catch Damian after he took another two steps. Damian had been getting better with walking, his record so far was four steps without help. 

“You’ll be running before long,” Bruce said, hefting him up to kiss the side of his head, “I won’t be able to keep up with you.”

Squealing at the sudden affection, Damian wiggled down into Bruce’s lap, and then looked over at Dick’s gameboy. 

“That’s dumb,” Dick said, rolling his eyes, “You’re batman. Of course you’ll be able to keep up with a baby.”

Dick’s attention turned sharply to Damian, and he snapped, “Stop it,” pulling his gameboy out of Damian’s reach when he tried to grab at it, “This is mine. Go away.”

“Damian, don’t touch. Dick, be nice.” 

“No,” Dick whined, trying to pull away from Damian again, who had scooted off Bruce’s lap and inserted himself between him and Dick, “stop.” 

Before Bruce could grab Damian and move him to the other side of the couch, Dick got up dramatically and stalked over to the other side of the living room, aggressively planting himself in an armchair to keep playing his game between sending Damian and Bruce angry glares. 

Selina smiled in that way she always did when trying not to laugh, and joined Bruce on the couch. 

“They’re always like this,” Bruce said, gripping onto Damian’s shirt as he started climbing around on the couch next to him. Better that than have him tumble off the couch when he wasn’t looking. 

“I’m sure,” Selina said, folding her legs up under her to lean against Bruce, watching Dick play his game, “They’re brothers, they’ll be like this for the rest of their lives.” 

“We are not,” Dick mumbled, burrowing down into the seat more to hide behind his knees.

“Hrn.” Bruce ignored Dick’s muttering and pulled Damian back up on the couch by his shirt when he nearly rolled off, then set him down in his lap. “You’re not going to fight with Dick forever, right?”

Damian didn’t answer, instead reached over to push at Selina, creating a space between her and Bruce so he could sit himself there. He smiled happily up at them, wiggling his feet in front of him as he just sat there, apparently content. 

“Someone doesn’t like sharing his daddy.” 

Bruce just rolled his eyes and put his arm back behind both Damian and Selina, watching Dick play his game angrily on the other side of the room.

One day, he hoped, Dick and Damian would be something like brothers. And not just the bickering kind. 

_\- - -_

Clark was late, of course. There was a correlation, Bruce noticed, between having super-speed and being habitually tardy. It was one of the many things that annoyed him about Flash and Superman. 

But it was incredibly hypocritical of him to mention tardiness, when Bruce Wayne was always late to everything. 

Not that that ever stopped him from making snide comments. 

They decided to do the cake right after lunch, so that Damian would have time to calm down from all the sugar before his nap-time, which unfortunately meant both kids were hyped up on sugar when it was time to open gifts. 

Alfred excused himself from the celebration, claiming to the group he had quite a bit to clean up, and whispering to Bruce to ‘have fun with his friends.’ Bruce kind of had to pause at that, because he did have friends, didn’t he?

That was kind of a weird thought.

Back in the living room, Damian had no idea what was going on. He showed almost no interest in opening presents, until a toy was revealed under the wrapping, then he demanded each toy be opened immediately so he could play with it. 

“Really, Clark?” Bruce said dryly when he helped Damian open a superman action figure meant for babies. Selina had already mentioned knowing Clark was Superman, since it was kind of obvious by the mere fact Bruce invited him over, since Selina knew Superman and Batman were friends. 

“Don’t even start with me, Bruce, I saw the Batman doll over there.”

“In this house we know Gotham is better than Metropolis,” Bruce grumbled, reluctantly opening the box so Damian could hold the action figure. 

“It’s okay, Clark, I got him a Superman shirt,” Dick said cheerfully, bouncing in his seat on the couch next to Clark, “I’ll make sure he actually wears it sometimes.”

“You are an excellent big brother,” Clark said, grinning, “The best influence for little Damian.”

Dick’s smile vanished from his face as his body stilled, then he said, almost annoyed, “He’s not my brother.” 

“Uh,” Clark said, looking to Bruce helplessly, “he’s not?”

“No,” Dick snapped, crossing his arms and sinking into the couch, refusing to look at anyone.

“Okay,” Bruce said, grabbing the next gift, “Dick, do you want to help him open your gift?”

With a huff, Dick shook his head and made a sound that meant ‘no.’

“You sure, chum? Remember, we were going to name her Eleanor and you would tell Damian stories about the circus?”

“No, Bruce,” Dick said forcefully.

Bruce looked up at Selina, who just shrugged at him, so he took the gift and helped Damian open it himself. 

Damian, of course, loved it. For one, it was an animal, and secondly, it was almost half the size of him. So it was very huggable, as he demonstrated almost instantly. 

“He likes it,” Bruce said, looking back at Dick, “You picked well, chum.”

“I don’t care.”

Deciding to just ignore Dick, Bruce helped Damian finish up with the rest of the presents. Selina got him a stuffed cat, claiming it was warmup for the real cat she was going to get him. Bruce was fairly certain she was joking, but he told her no pets in the house, just in case. 

After all the gifts were open, and they were working together to put the train-set together on the coffee table, Damian decided he was done having Dick pout on the couch. 

Carefully, and painstakingly, he made his way across the room with his new elephant and cat. It was quite the undertaking, considering the size of the toys compared to Damian. Once he got to the couch, he threw them both up next to Dick, then pulled himself up to sit next to him. 

Dick just glared, his arms still crossed, as Damian picked up the cat and put it in Dick’s lap. 

“Go away,” he mumbled, pushing the cat back at Damian.

Damian growled and put the cat back in Dick’s lap, then put Eleanor next to it and looked at Dick expectantly.

“I said,” Dick snapped, pushing both animals back at Damian, “Go away.”

“Dick,” Bruce said, shooting the boy a warning look.

But Damian had already started putting the toys back in Dick’s lap, this time standing on the couch as he tried to climb on Dick himself. 

And Dick pushed the toys away, shouting “Stop,” as he did. 

Bruce’s heart nearly stopped as he saw Damian lose his balance and start to fall backwards, right off the couch. 

Right toward the ground, head first. 

He knew it was pointless. There was not enough time to get across the room to catch him. 

It was like watching everything in slow motion. He was barely half a step there when a burst of air hit him in the face, just as Clark caught Damian. 

“Dick,” he shouted, on his feet now.

The look of shock quickly faded off Dick’s face, his wide eyes and pale face shifted right back toward anger as he hopped to his feet, too. “I didn’t- It’s not my fault!”

“You’re the one who pushed him,” Bruce said, giving Dick a look, because how on earth _wasn’t_ it Dick’s fault?

“It was Damian’s fault! I told him to leave me alone,” Dick shouted, pointing at Damian, who was still in Clark’s arms, just observing them.

“He’s just a baby.”

“I don’t care.” Dick’s face scrunched up, and he made to bolt out of the room, right past Bruce.

Bruce caught his arm as he passed, forcing him to turn back around and face him. “No,” he said, allowing Dick to pull his arm free when he yanked, “You could have really hurt Damian. I can’t just let that go.” 

“Well maybe if your kid left me alone-” Dick started, planting his feet as he argued up at Bruce.

“He’s a _baby.”_

 _“_ I don’t care! _”_

Bruce rubbed his face and tried to calm down a little, not even wanting to look over at their audience, “I keep telling you to be nice to him for this exact reason.”

“And I keep telling _you_ to make him leave me alone.”

“He was just trying to cheer you up.”

“He _can’t,_ ” Dick shouted, “He’s stupid and I hate him and I want him to go away.” With that, Dick turned around and started to run out of the room again.

“Get back here, Dick,” Bruce shouted after him, following him out of the room. 

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Dick said, from the staircase he’d made it to down the hall.

“What?” Bruce said, honestly started this time, because he most certainly _could_ and _did_ tell Dick what to do. All the time. “Yes I can, I’m-”

“No,” Dick shouted, “you aren’t my dad.” 

Bruce just blinked, still standing in the doorway to the living room, one hand on the doorframe as he looked at Dick, who was glaring at him. “No,” he said semi-calmly, “but I am your guardian and that counts for something.”

“No it doesn't!”

Dick finished his storm up the stairs and Bruce could hear, faintly, the sound of his bedroom door slamming. He sighed, rubbed at his face, and looked back in the room to see Clark and Selina awkwardly not looking at him while Damian just sat on the floor, staring. He’d apparently gotten free from Clark at some point.

“Great,” he muttered, walking over to Damian, who at least wasn’t looking at him like a terrified puppy, for once. He had no idea what just happened, or why Dick had snapped like that. He knew the boy had a temper, but he was surprised he lashed out at a baby. Even if accidentally. 

“You’re going to talk to him, right?” Selina said as Bruce picked Damian up and sat on the couch with him.

“Yeah,” Bruce sighed, “in a bit.” He needed time to collect his thoughts and figure it out. 

“He’s up there crying, Bruce,” Clark said, frowning.

Bruce just sighed, running his hand through Damian’s hair. “Okay, guess I’ll go now.”

After handing Damian off to Selina, he made his way up to Dick’s room, and sure enough, Dick was lying in his bed, crying his eyes out like Bruce hadn’t seen in at least a year. 

“Dick?” he said softly, shutting the door behind him as he entered. He hoped the action would signal to Clark to mind his own business and not listen in. 

“Go away, Bruce,” Dick mumbled, rubbing at his eyes and trying to stop crying, his back to Bruce, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Bruce sighed and approached, sitting on the bed behind Dick. “What’s going on, chum?” he asked, staring down at his own hands. Completely out of his element. Totally lost. 

He wasn’t good at _this_ part of the whole raising-a-kid thing. 

Dick sniffed and buried his face into his pillow, hiding himself further. “Go play with your stupid baby and leave me alone.”

Frowning, Bruce put a hand on Dick’s shoulder and turned him so he rolled onto his back. When Dick held onto the pillow and took it with him, Bruce removed it and tried to offer Dick a kind face when he finally looked up. 

He probably failed, though. All Dick did was roll further, burying his head into the bed right next to Bruce’s side, starting to cry again. 

With another sigh, Bruce carefully lifted Dick up and rested his head on his shoulder, trying his best to comfort him the way he would Damian. He was just a bit bigger than Damian. 

Dick took right to it, though, and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s shoulder, crying harder right into his neck. Bruce tried not to think about it.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he murmured, rubbing at Dick’s back.

“I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can,” he soothed, “Whatever it is, I promise you can tell me anything.” 

Shaking his head, Dick pressed his face in further and continued crying, some of his sobs being so loud Bruce wanted to pull his ear away, but also didn’t want to alienate Dick or take away whatever comfort he was getting from this. If any. 

Surely he was getting some, if he wasn’t fighting Bruce, right?

For several minutes, they just sat there, Dick wailing and Bruce awkwardly rubbing his back, shushing him and randomly saying, “It’s okay.” 

Finally, Dick settled down a little and mumbled, almost too quietly for Bruce to hear, “You aren’t my dad.”

Bruce’s hand stilled and he took in a sharp breath, wondering if he’d overstepped or something by holding Dick like he were Damian. Maybe that was why Dick didn’t want to talk to him? 

“I know,” he said solemnly, “is that why you can’t tell me?”

“No,” Dick said miserably. 

Slowly, Bruce said, “I don’t know how to help you if you don’t tell me whats going on.”

Dick hesitated, stiffening a bit as he seemed to contemplate Bruce’s words. Finally, he admitted, “Damian’s your son. I’m not.”

And Bruce had no idea what to do with that. Because he was pretty sure they’d just established that. Dick had been quite loud in his opinion. Damian _wasn’t_ his brother. Damian was just a ‘stupid baby.’ He continuously referred to Dami as ‘your kid’ 

It was quite clear that Damian was Bruce’s kid and Dick was not.

Why on earth would that be what Dick chose to say?

Unless….

Was that the problem?

Was that…?

Bruce could slap himself. The longer he went without speaking, the more Dick seemed to curl in on himself, pulling away from Bruce to hug at himself and look away.

“That’s why you’re upset?” Bruce asked, horrified with himself for not addressing this sooner. 

In response, Dick started crying again, curling up next to Bruce, clearly trying his best to completely disappear under Bruce’s scrutiny.

Getting up, Bruce knelt down next to the bed, making himself eye level with Dick. He lightly grasped at his chin, forcing him to uncurl a little and look at Bruce. Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage to say what he needed to say. 

“Dick,” he said slowly, opening his eyes to stare straight into Dick’s. It was important Dick knew how much Bruce meant everything he was about to say. “I- I couldn’t love a son more than I love you.” 

“Bruce-” Dick choked, suddenly crying harder again, leaning forward into Bruce’s hold. 

“Shhhh, chum,” he said, catching Dick and hugging him again, “I don’t have to be your dad to care about you. I would never try to replace your dad, okay? But I already see you as-“

“I can have two dads,” Dick blurted out. Almost instantly, Dick stiffened and paled, pulling back away, out of Bruce’s hold. “Sorry,” he mumbled, hugging himself again. 

Smiling now, because those words were seriously the best words he’d ever heard, Bruce stood and sat back down next to Dick, pulling him into his side for another hug.

“I already see you as a son, regardless of whether you see me as a dad,” he said, planting a kiss into Dick’s hair, then leaving his cheek there, letting Dick just cry. 

“I’m just your ward,” Dick protested, pressing the palm of his hands into his eyes, “Damian is your son.” 

“It doesn’t matter what the papers say, Dick.” 

“But you’re not-”

“Do you want me to adopt you?” Bruce asked, loosening his hold on Dick as he twisted a bit to look straight into his eyes after pulling his hands away from his face, “We can make it official. I can adopt you and then you’ll be my legal son.”

“I-”

“You don’t have to take my name. You can stay ‘Grayson,’ but you can take ‘Wayne’ if you want it. Or you can hyphenate, ‘Grayson-Wayne.’ And you don’t have to call me ‘Dad.’ ‘Bruce’ is fine. But this would make you my heir and mean we’d still have a legal connection once you turned 18. I will never kick you out, though, so if you say ‘no’ its okay. It won’t change anything. I just thought maybe-”

“Bruce,” Dick interrupted, surprising Bruce with a hysterical laugh, “Yes.” 

“Yes?” Bruce questioned as his face softened, a smile creeping onto it. If he meant what Bruce thought he meant, he just might cry. 

Dick nodded and wrapped his arms around Bruce. “Yes. You can adopt me.” 

Grinning now, Bruce gave Dick another kiss and hugged back. “I love you, chum.” 

“You’ve said that twice now,” Dick pointed out, smiling now, too. Bruce kind of wanted to take a picture of the face, but he knew he was going to remember this moment for the rest of his life. 

“I know,” he said, burying his cheek down into Dick’s hair again.

“You’ve never said it before.” 

“I know,” he repeated, “I’ll try harder, okay? I want you and Damian to know it.” 

Nodding against Bruce’s chest, Dick said, “I love you, too.” 

Bruce just squeezed a little, then sat there, waiting for Dick to pull away. 

He did, eventually. After about 5 minutes, he pulled away and sniffled a little, rubbing at his face rather dramatically. 

“I-” he started, looking away from Bruce, “I didn’t mean to- to push Damian off-” 

“I know,” Bruce interrupted, because he did know. He honestly still didn’t know how to deal with Dick’s original violent outburst. “Damian is just a baby, Dick. You have to be careful with him.”

Dick nodded and whispered, “I know.” 

“He doesn’t know any better. He doesn’t understand what ‘go away’ means, and he _adores_ you. You’re his big brother, he’s always going to look up to you.” 

“I’m a big brother,” Dick murmured, pulling his legs up to cross them, “I…”

Whatever Dick was going to say, he obviously wasn’t going to finish, so Bruce put a hand on his shoulder and said, “You’re going to be a great big brother, I just know it.”

Nodding, Dick offered a tiny smile and admitted, “I’ve always wanted a little brother.” 

“Well,” Bruce said, standing and offering Dick a hand, “you have one downstairs. And it’s his birthday, what do you say we go back down there?”

Swiping at his face one last time, Dick hopped up and grasped onto his hand, bouncing now, right back to his happy self. 

Downstairs, Dick let go of Bruce to bound on ahead and into the living room. Bruce just barely heard when he said, “Sorry, Dami. I like your elephant and kitty.” 

“Everything okay?” Selina whispered when he came back in and sat down next to her on the couch to watch Dick and Damian play with Clark and the train-set. 

“Yeah,” he said, smiling at her briefly. 

“What’s got you all happy?” 

“I’ll tell you about it later,” he said, offering her a kiss before she wrapped his arm around her shoulders and leaned against him. 

Clark smiled knowingly at him, and all Bruce could do was glare at him, warning him to keep his trap shut. Someone needed to teach him to mind his own business.

Because he wasn’t sure if Dick wanted to just announce it, and honestly he was a little afraid Dick might change his mind in a couple days. But he kind of doubted that would happen. 

And if it didn’t he had a lot to talk about with his lawyers. He’d contact them all on Monday, if Dick hadn’t changed his mind yet, and start the adoption process. 

Bruce had no idea how that worked, but he was excited for it. More excited than he’d ever been for anything in his entire life. 

He couldn’t _wait_ to tell Alfred. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thank you to the amazing kasyfairytaillover, as always. She really helped me hammer this one out, and some of the dialogue in Dick and Bruce's fight is straight up hers, so she's amazing. Love her. 
> 
> I hope that was worth the wait, I totally didn't mean to post this after midnight. Whoops. Let me know what you think! I've been SO EXCITED for this chapter. Like seriously. 
> 
> And sorry about missing Wednesday's update. I had a migraine this week and I lose words with migraines. My boss actually set me home Wednesday because I couldn't remember the word "Thursday," which is just sad, ya know? The mere thought of trying to read or write was absolutely exhausting, so I didn't even try. 😂 Can you imagine the crap I would have produced? 😂😂😂
> 
> Anyway, I'll be skipping this Wednesday, too, but because it's my birthday on Tuesday and I won't have time to write between now and Wednesday. Whoops, but I'll make sure Sunday's update is on time this time! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3 you guys. :D


	11. Chapter 11

On Monday evening, Leslie came to the cave to give Damian his “well baby” appointment. Apparently, Damian was supposed to see a doctor every few months to make sure he was developing properly.

After she measured and weighed him, Leslie went about checking his eyes and ears and all his reflexes.

Damian was not very happy about any of it. He spent most of the appointment huffing at her and trying to twist away from her hands.

“You are definitely Bruce’s,” Leslie said when Damian smacked her for trying to stick her otoscope into his ear.

Bruce just sighed and took Damian’s arms into his hands as he tried to hug the child still.

“You can let him down now,” Leslie said once she was done looking at Damian’s ears. Damian had screamed out in protest, but finally submitted to the examination with a murderous scowl on his face.

With a quick kiss to the side of his face, Bruce walked him to the pile of toys he’d carried down and set in the middle of the training mats for Damian to play with. The area they were in had three walls around it and only one opening to the larger cave. He was fairly confident he’d be able to keep Damian corralled on the mats. He really needed to get safety railing up in the cave though. It was probably safer for all of them to have it.

“How many words does he have?” Leslie asked as they watched Damian throw around his toys angrily.

“None,” Bruce said as he picked up the cow toy Damian favored so much and handed it to him.

Leslie raised an eyebrow and looked up from her clipboard. “None at all? They don’t have to sound like proper words, just sounds he’s assigned to certain things, like you or food or his bottle. Or perhaps something like ‘no’ or ‘uh oh.’”

“I think we switched languages on him,” Bruce said, frowning, “I don’t think he heard English regularly before moving here.”

“Hmm,” she said, scribbling down something in her notes, “Okay. Let’s monitor his language development, though. If he doesn’t have any words by 18 months, we’ll need to intervene and figure out why. He shows signs that he can hear, correct?”

“Damian,” Bruce said, drawing the baby’s attention to him, who had been looking at the blocks he was bashing around on the floor.

“Good. Does he eat well?”

Bruce took a seat in one of the chairs they’d dragged over to continue answering Leslie’s questions about Damian and his routine and habits.

Eventually growing bored of his blocks, Damian started wandering the mats, feeling at the cave walls and using them to help him walk around the area. Bruce watched as he did, answering Leslie’s questions as best as he could.

“You need to get in contact with his mother and figure out what, if any, immunizations he’s had,” she was saying, just as Damian started wandering toward the exit to the training area they were in.

“Damian,” he said sternly, causing him to pause and look over, “Stay in here.”

Bruce kept his face serious as he motioned with his hand for Damian to come toward him. He tried to convey with his body language that there was no room for arguments. If he were going to keep Damian and raise him, he needed to start now being stern when necessary, so that Damian didn’t grow up spoiled, always expecting to get his way and never listening. That’s what the books said, at least.

Leslie smiled as Damian visibly debated what to do. He looked back and forth between the exit to the area and Bruce, before turning around and toddling back toward them.

“Good boy,” Bruce said as he approached, ruffling his hair before picking him up, “I can probably contact Talia, if it’s necessary.”

“It is. We need to know what he needs and where to start. I don’t want to give him anything until I know what he’s already had.”

“Okay,” Bruce sighed, already dreading that call. Because he just knew the shit it was going to start. Maybe he could avoid the entire topic of Damian staying in Gotham forever. He really didn’t want to deal with her yet. If she did anything publicly, he was a little afraid it might affect his adoption of Dick. He wasn’t sure what a public custody battle would do to his petition.

Leslie must have picked up on his sudden mood change, because she set the clipboard down and rolled her chair over to right in front of Bruce.

“So,” she said, tilting her head, “How are you holding up? This is a huge change.”

Damian whined out and fought against Bruce’s hold, trying to get back down to the floor, so Bruce set him down and rubbed at his face. “I’m fine.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, fixing Bruce with a look he’d always hated from her. One that said she knew he was lying and she wasn’t going to leave him alone until he quit.

With another sigh, Bruce rested his head in his hand and looked over to where Damian was playing with his blocks again. “Actually,” he said quietly, almost a mumble, “Could you recommend a, uh…. a therapist?”

When there was no response, he looked back to Leslie, expecting to see her waiting for him to talk or something. Perhaps he had spoken too quietly. Instead, he saw her just staring at him with wide eyes and a slightly dropped jaw.

He felt his cheeks flush a little as he quickly said, “It’s just, it’s a lot and- I just-”

“Bruce,” she cut in, shaking her head as she did, “I’m sorry. Yes. Do you want a civilian ID one or one that can talk about…” she said, waiving a hand around, motioning at the cave, to mean ‘all this.’

“Everything,” Bruce said after only a moment of contemplation. If he were going to do this, he needed to go all in. He was doing this for his boys, and refusing to commit himself to it would do nothing to help them.

Hopefully Leslie would know someone he could trust. He’d, of course, do his own extensive research, but surely she could give him some leads on people trustworthy enough to know everything.

“Okay,” she said softly, placing a hand on his knee and squeezing, “Give me a few days to ask some questions and I’ll get back to you with a list.”

“Thank you, Leslie,” he said, smiling faintly.

“Of course, Bruce. You’re doing a good job, you know? He’s healthy and happy.”

“Thanks.”

“Take care of yourself,” she said, standing and gathering up her things, “and this little one. He’s precious.”

Bruce smiled fully at that, his gaze turning back to where Damian was trying to balance his cow on top of his tower of blocks. “He is, isn’t he?”

\- - -

Bruce had to close his eyes and practice his breathing before he hit call. He’d rehearsed what he was going to say for hours. Worked up the courage for days.

 _It’s important,_ he kept reminding himself, _for Damian._

But damn if it wasn’t going to be a difficult conversation.

“ _Beloved,”_ Talia answered the video call Bruce had initiated from the Batcomputer, “ _I am surprised to hear from you.”_

“Talia, I need his medical records,” he said without preamble, hoping to get straight to business and keep the call as short as possible.

“ _Ah yes,_ ” she drawled, “ _because you made him public. Remind me, Beloved, did we discuss that?_ ”

“It could not be avoided,” he replied dryly, “I am in the public eye. It would be difficult to keep him secret forever.”

She just gave him an unimpressed look and asked, “ _Where is my love? I would like to see him.”_

“He’s asleep upstairs. I don’t often bring him into the cave.” _I don’t want him in this world,_ he thought, not quite ready to voice that to Talia. Because he just knew _that_ would set them on the topic of where Damian would spend the rest of his life. “I need to know what immunizations he’s had so my doctor can administer the appropriate ones.”

Talia frowned, but seemed to accept the excuse. _“I will have our doctor prepare the appropriate documents and I will send them to you within the week.”_

“Thank you,” Bruce said, ready to terminate the call, but then added quickly when he saw her longing look, “I can send you some photos. If you want. He’s- he’s grown a lot.”

“ _I would appreciate that,_ ” Talia said after a long pause, _“I will be in contact.”_

Bruce slumped in his chair when she cut the call. It had gone much easier than he expected, and didn’t last nearly as long. But it left him feeling conflicted.

Because Talia seemed to actually miss Damian. Bruce could see it in how her eyes seemed to dull when he said Damian was asleep. See it in how her body shifted ever-so-slightly. Hear it in the disappointment in her voice.

Talia loved Damian. How could she not? He was incredible.

As he composed an email to her with all his favorite pictures and videos of Damian, all he could think about was the decisions he had ahead of him. Damian still would not return to live with Talia, but he wasn’t sure he could flat out deny her visitation, either.

He had a lot to think about and they had a lot to talk about.

Perhaps this was something he could discuss with his new therapist. That’s what they were for, right?

\- - -

It was insane how fast time moved. Before Bruce knew it, it was February, and Damian was approaching 15 months.

He’d really gotten the hang of walking, and now ran pretty much everywhere. Bruce usually had to fight him about being carried when they were out in public, and was just outright exhausted half the time when dealing with him. Gates had appeared on every single door in the manor, it seemed like, and even then those didn’t always keep Damian in.

The little brat had figure out how to climb over them. Which meant he escaped his playpens. Constantly. So the rooms where he was left alone for a short amount of time had baby proofed doorknobs, or were just flat out locked, so that he couldn’t escape the room on his own.

But they rarely resorted to doing that anymore. Instead, Bruce and Alfred traded off throughout the day, making sure one of them always had an eye on him. Because boy was that child slippery.

Alfred’s increased involvement in Damian’s daily routine meant he was even busier than normal. So starting in January, Bruce started insisting Alfred take Tuesdays off.

Of course, it was met with a lot of protest, but eventually Bruce was able to convince him to take the entire day off, until dinner. He still fixed them dinner on Tuesday, and then continued on with their evening and night routine as normal, so that Bruce could go on patrol and Alfred wouldn’t sit around worried, unable to man the comms.

Bruce wanted Alfred to have a true day off, but he would take what he could get.

So, on Tuesdays, Bruce drove Dick to and from school.

It was on one of these Tuesdays that Bruce found himself sitting in the car, chatting at Damian while they waited for Dick to get out of school.

“Help Dad look for Dick, okay, bud?” he said, looking back at Damian, who was happily munching on some animal crackers in his carseat. At hearing Dick’s name, he perked up and started kicking his feet, trying his best to look out the car window.

Damian’s excitement at hearing Dick’s name was nothing in comparison to the spaz-attack he had once Dick opened the door.

“Bruce,” he shouted as he hopped in, “Hi Dami!”

The squeal Damian let out made Bruce cringe. “Hey, chum,” he said as he watched Dick buckle in before he pulled out of the pick up area.

“We’re getting frozen yogurt, right?” Dick said as he started playing with Damian by tapping his nose and tickling him at random.

“Why would we do that?” Bruce asked, smirking back at Dick while he waited for an opening to turn onto the main road.

“Because,” Dick exasperated, “We _always_ get frozen yogurt when you pick me up.”

“That sounds like a terrible habit to be in,” he said as he turned right, toward the mall instead of back toward the manor.

Dick just grinned and stage whispered to Damian, “Dad’s a total pushover, isn’t he?”

And while Bruce knew Dick only referred to him as ‘Dad’ when talking directly to Damian, because they were trying to teach him the word, it still made his heart flutter a little every time he heard the term come from anyone other than himself. _Especially_ when that person was Dick.

“Just for that,” he said as he merged onto the interstate, “ _We’re_ getting ice cream and you’ll just have to watch us eat it.”

“ _Ice cream_ ,” Dick mocked.

When they got to the mall, Dick unbuckled Damian like he always did, and helped him get out to the ground of the parking garage.

Damian, of course, tried to run off, just like he always did. “Damian,” Bruce snapped, catching him by his arm and keeping him from getting more than two feet away from the car, “hold Dick’s hand or be carried.”

With a dramatic huff, Damian let Dick take his hand, and together the three of them walked toward Dick’s favorite _yogurt_ place.

“I think peanut butter is Little D’s favorite,” Dick said as he helped Damian take another tiny bite of his yogurt, careful not to have any toppings on the spoon per Bruce’s instructions.

“Little D?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow as he ate another bite of his strawberry yogurt.

“Yeah,” Dick said, kicking his feet while he spoke, his mouth half full with gummy worms, “You’re B, Alfred is A, and we’re both D, so we have to differentiate.”

“Hm,” Bruce said, giving Damian a bite of his strawberry, “You could just be ‘R.’ That would solve it and be much simpler.”

Damian bounced in his high chair and reached out for the spoon, begging Bruce for more. Strawberry was clearly his favorite, just like his dad. Not peanut butter.

“Don’t be stupid, Bruce. No one calls me Richard.”

“Everyone at school calls you Richard,” Bruce countered, letting Damian have another small bite before he took a massive bite of his own, trying to get rid of the yogurt so Damian didn’t get too much sugar.

“That’s because they’re stupid and refuse to call me ‘Dick.’ _They_ don’t count. All my friends call me ‘Dick.’

“Mhm.”

“Shut up, Bruce. I’m ‘D’ and he’s ‘Little D.’”

“Whatever you say, R.”

“You suck,” Dick mumbled, taking the last bite of his yogurt before dramatically tossing his spoon into the empty bowl.

“Love you, too,” Bruce said with a smug smile as he let Damian have his last bite.

Dick grinned and bounced in his seat at that, then shouted, “Toy store!” much too loudly for a public space.

“Why? We’re not buying anything,” Bruce said as he poured a little bit of water on a napkin to clean Damian up.

Damian stared at his hands as Bruce wiped them off, then threw his arms in the air, mimicking Dick, squealing as he did. Bruce sighed and held him still enough to finish cleaning his face.

“Little D’s on my side, you’re outnumbered,” Dick declared, throwing away their trash as Bruce got Damian out of his chair, “That means we have to go.”

“Does it, now?”

“Yep! Let’s go,” Dick grabbed onto Bruce’s free hand and pulled him toward the toy store across the hall from the yogurt place, “it’ll be great.”

“We aren’t buying anything,” Bruce repeated, letting Dick run off once they got into the store.

“What do you want to look at, kiddo?” he asked Damian, who was just sitting in his arms, staring at him, “Right, good talk.”

Bruce started wandering the aisles, letting Damian take in the things around them. Every once in a while he pointed at something, and Bruce would name it for him, sometimes letting him touch it. So far, Damian didn’t try to grab anything and was content with just pointing and touching.

That changed when they were in the stuffed animal aisle. Bruce was examining the section of developmental toys meant for babies Damian’s age, while Damian was looking behind Bruce at all the various animals.

Loud and clearly, Damian said, “cow,” his arm pointing at something on the shelf.

Bruce blinked. Then looked at Damian, who was staring at his expectantly, his arm still held out toward the toys behind them.

“Really? You can say ‘cow’ but not ‘dad?’”

“Cow,” Damian repeated, making grabby hands now, trying to tug Bruce with his body toward the toy he saw.

Sighing, Bruce turned around, and sure enough, there were stuffed cows.

Once they were close enough, Damian snatched one off the shelf and hugged it close to his body.

“Yep, that’s a cow. Good job, buddy.”

Damian cooed happily as he snuggled with the toy, so Bruce decided not to fight it yet. He’d let Damian hold it until it was time to leave.

“How come he’s getting a toy,” Dick’s voice suddenly cut in sharply, so much so that Bruce nearly startled at it.

“He’s not. He’s just holding it until we leave.”

Hugging the cow more tightly, Damian repeated, “cow” for Dick to hear.

“You talked!” Dick screeched, bounding over to pat Damian’s cow and grin at him, “Good job! Can you say ‘Dick?’ Come on, buddy, say ‘Dick.’”

Damian set his head on Bruce’s shoulder, hiding his face from Dick’s excitement. Something he did a lot when feeling overwhelmed by his older brother.

Bruce set his hand on Damian’s back and said, “Okay, that’s enough, chum. Are you ready to go?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, let’s put Mr. Cow back, Dami,” he said, gently trying to extract the toy from Damian’s grasp, “Say, ‘bye Mr. Cow.’”

Immediately, Damian sprung to action, screaming as loud as he could, holding onto the cow with all his strength.

“Throwing a fit doesn’t get you what you want,” Bruce said, freeing the cow so he could set it back on the shelf.

“Cow,” Damian cried, his face twisting into the most devastated look Bruce had ever seen. In that moment he just knew, if they left the store without the damn cow, he was never going to hear the end of it. Possibly for the rest of his life.

“Okay, fine,” he relented, shoving the stupid toy back into Damian’s arms, “but we will not make this a habit.”

Damian sniffed and buried his face into the toy, mumbling “cow” over and over as he did.

“Yes, it’s a cow.”

“That’s not fair,” Dick said, scowling at Bruce, “if he gets a toy, I get a toy.”

“Fine,” Bruce said exhaustedly. Why were kids so ridiculous? It was a stupid cow. He checked the price tag and added, “it’s $11. You can have a toy that costs $11.”

“You’re a _billionaire,”_ Dick protested.

“And you can have _eleven_ of those dollars.”

At the register, Damian screamed again when Bruce tried to take the toy from him, so he ended up just ripping the tag off for the cashier to scan.

And that stupid cow became attached to Damian.

Not once did he allow it from his sight for the next week. It had to sit on the counter in the bathroom during his bath time, he was so obsessed with it. By the end of the month, Bruce was already dreading having to eventually take it away to clean it. So, as a result, he went back to the store without the kids to pick up a few back ups. Just in case.

_Cow._

But, on the upside, that one word seemed to unlock language for Damian. He started picking up a new word each week, and was making more sounds that resembled words. The first time Damian said ‘Da,’ trying to get his attention, Bruce nearly died. He certainly didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day, to Selina’s continued amusement.

According to her, he was, apparently, going soft.

Who cared? His kid called him ‘Da.’

He could die happy after that.

\- - -

Talia called in late March.

Bruce had been expecting it. He knew it was coming. His new therapist had discussed the issue with him on many occasions, helping him figure out what he’d be comfortable with and what he thought was best for Damian.

In the end, he had decided that Talia could visit Damian, but Damian would not be leaving the manor with her for any reason. He was prepared to explain as much to Talia.

But then Talia called, and Bruce suddenly felt completely unprepared for the conversation.

Everything he’d planned, every sentence phrased, everything just vanished from his head upon seeing her face on the screen.

“ _Beloved,”_ she said, her voice like nails on a chalkboard to Bruce, “ _The situation here has been dealt with. I expect to retrieve Damian next month.”_

Bruce froze for half a second as he processed. This was it.

With a deep breath, he looked straight in the camera and said, “No.”

“ _No?”_ she questioned, one brow raised, “ _This was never permanent. You knew that.”_

“He’s been here six months already, and he’s happy. He’ll stay here.”

“ _This is not your decision,”_ she snapped, her expression turning fierce on the screen, “ _I am his mother. He will be returning home.”_

“No, Talia,” Bruce said calmly, sitting down in the chair at his computer while he spoke, “I have been doing a lot of reading on child development, and it seems as if he had no attachment to you prior to moving here.”

“ _Don’t be ridiculous.”_

 _“_ He didn’t even blink at being handed off to a complete stranger,” Bruce continued, “as if he were completely used to being handed to strangers. It’s extremely important for a child’s development to form attachments in early childhood, and as far as I can tell, he had none before.”

“ _Are you suggesting I neglected my son?_ ” Talia snapped, “ _because-”_

“I’m not suggesting anything, Talia,” he cut in, “I am simply reporting my observations. Damian has formed an attachment to me and has a healthy relationship with a handful of other people. Ripping him away from that would not be good for him.”

“ _You cannot keep my son from me.”_

“And I’m not trying to,” Bruce said, shifting in his chair some, “I am willing to allow you to visit him. But he will be living here, with me.”

“ _This was never the agreement,”_ she said, almost desperately, “ _you cannot just keep him.”_

 _“_ Feel free to challenge me in court, but know I have a strong case already prepared against you. Drugging me was not a good decision on your part.”

“ _Do not pretend you did not enjoy-”_

 _“_ I am not discussing this with you,” Bruce snapped, cutting her off right there.

Her face immediately fell, then turned dark as she hissed, “ _If this is how you want to play it, Beloved, then I will play. But just remember, you brought this down on yourself.”_

Before Bruce could respond, the call was ended, so he just pulled his cowl back and ran his hands through his hair. He knew Talia wasn’t going to take the news laying down, but he was kind of hoping she’d realize Damian was better off with him.

Of course, he didn’t even mention the safety aspect.

_Stupid._

He’d need to compose an email to her explaining everything and try to appeal to her maternal side. Maybe if he stressed that he merely had Damian’s safety and happiness in mind, she’d see reason. After all, she had confided in him her desire to get away from her father, way back when they were friendly with each other.

Perhaps the realization that Damian would grow up free from _his_ influence would be enough to sway her.

Because even if _she_ couldn’t escape, here was her chance to give her son a better life. Why wouldn’t she agree?

That night, instead of going out on patrol, Bruce changed back into pajamas and went to Damian’s room to watch him sleep.

Damian, of course, woke once Bruce walked in, and sleepily reached an arm out for him, mumbling “Da,” at him, asking to be picked up.

Gladly, Bruce took him and sat in the rocking chair with him, cradling him close as they rocked.

He was afraid for what this feud would do to Damian. He wanted nothing more than to keep Damian safe. To let Damian grow up to be whatever he wanted. Live without training or expectations. Without the senseless violence of the League.

It was crazy, how quickly it happened, but Damian was his entire world. Damian and Dick. The most important people on the planet. He’d do anything for them.

Anything.

Bruce would die for this kid in his arms.

If that’s what it took to protect him, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

“I love you,” he whispered into Damian’s hair, “I promise I’ll protect you, buddy.”

“Da,” Damian mumbled, tightening his grasp on Bruce’s shirt as he snuggled his head more into Bruce’s chest.

“I’m right here,” he said, planting a kiss in his hair and closing his eyes, content to just drift to sleep right there with Damian, “I’ll always be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday! 
> 
> The first word of a little girl at the nursery at church was "owl" and it was the weirdest thing hearing her say "owl" so clearly when she didn't say mama or dada. I thought it would be funny if Damian said "cow" first instead of "dada" 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! <3


	12. Chapter 12

Surprisingly, Bruce didn’t hear a word from Talia for quite some time. Months went by without even a whiff of her or the League.

It was making Bruce a little uneasy.

But perhaps his email had worked, and Talia had seen the pros of leaving Damian in Gotham. Bruce was a little surprised she didn’t want photos or videos or something, but he wasn’t at all upset by it.

Actually, he was relieved. Because it meant he didn’t have to deal with her.

By July, Damian had turned into a little chatterbox. He had started stringing words together and was blowing past all the milestones for development. And while his words weren’t often fully formed, his meaning was usually understood by those in the house.

His territorial-ness had increased tenfold, too. 

The first time Damian pushed Selina away from Bruce and screamed, “Mine,” at her had made Bruce burst out into laughter. Unfortunately, though, showing amusement had just encouraged the behavior. So Damian continued to act that way, despite Bruce’s reprimands for it.

Selina had been a much better sport about it than Dick, the following week.

But overall, Bruce would say their little family was pretty happy. Dick was thrilled when his adoption went through, and the picture of him, Bruce, Damian, and the judge was framed and put in the hall of family portraits. Bruce was planning on having a proper portrait commissioned, eventually.

And by time for the Annual Wayne Charity Gala, he was even comfortable enough with letting the public- or, well, the socialites invited to the Gala- interact with Damian directly.

Well. With him and Dick and Alfred and Selina there as a buffer, of course.

Needless to say, the guests were excited to be meeting Damian for the first time, and both the boys were excited for the party.

“Selina,” Dick shouted as soon as she stepped into the Manor, about an hour before the Gala started, ready except for her dress, which was in a garment bag in her arms. Dick had gone from untrusting and outright judgmental of Selina to pure adoration in less than a year.

“Ena,” Damian mimicked, smiling just as wide as Dick and throwing his arms up in the air as Bruce held him, just as excited to see Selina as Dick was.

Bruce wasn’t sure what to make of it. He purposely avoided thinking about his and Selina’s relationship. Because admitting they’d been together and exclusive for as long as they had was a bit much. But knowing his boys, especially the one who couldn’t be bought with cookies and new stuffed cat every few weeks, liked her made him feel _something._

But he wasn’t thinking about it.

Instead, he put a hand on her back and gave her a kiss before Alfred shooed him up to his room to finish getting himself and the boys ready.

“Did Bruce tell you,” Dick said as Selina followed them upstairs, where she was likely just going to make fun of how he fixed his hair, “I’m going to turn 12 in _two weeks.”_

“Wow,” she said, always flawless in her delivery of fake enthusiasm, “you’re almost legal. Better watch this one, Bruce. He’s going to be a regular ladies man.”

Before Bruce could grumble about Dick turning 12, not 18, Dick said, “Bruce says I’m too young to date.”

“Does he?” she asked, grinning at Bruce as he put Damian down in his bedroom so he could grab his suit from the closet to dress him first.

“Yeah. Have to be 16,” Dick mumbled, jumping up on Bruce’s bed to bounce on the mattress.

“That is oddly responsible of him,” she said, closing the bedroom door before Damian could make an escape.

“Dick. Go get dressed.”

“16, huh,” Selina said once Dick left, still grinning like she thought this was the funniest thing on the face of the planet.

Bruce just gave her an unamused look as he laid Damian’s suit out and went to catch the little rascal as he ran off, giggling at his evasion skills.

“You little punk,” Bruce said as he scooped Damian up and spun him around, airplane style, “It’s time to get dressed.”

“No,” Damian shouted, still laughing as Bruce flipped him onto the bed, “No. Play.”

“You can keep playing after you’re wearing your suit,” Bruce promised, prompting Damian to lift his arms up as he pulled off his shirt, “Want to wear a tie just like Dad?”

“Af,” Damian said, pointing at the clip-on bowtie Bruce showed him.

“That’s right. Alfred wears these. Guess we’re really dressing like Alfred, huh?”

“I wonder how the thugs of Gotham would react if they knew you were this soft,” Selina said, laying back on the bed so she had to crane her neck to look at Bruce, Damian’s cow toy in her hands as she fiddled with its ears.

Buttoning up Damian’s collared shirt, Bruce said, “I’m not soft.”

“You’re literally dressing a baby right now.”

Bruce helped Damian into his slacks and tucked the shirt in, staring at Selina as he did. “He’s my son, who else is going to dress him?”

“See, such a softie.”

Somehow, the lot of them got ready in time so Alfred could take a picture of them all before they were needed in the ballroom. Bruce even managed to wrestle the cow and pacifier away from Damian for a minute for the picture. Even if he thought the look of a binkie clipped to Damian’s shirt while he wore a tie was cute, Alfred disagreed and didn’t want it ruining his picture.

And it took exactly five seconds after Bruce entered the ballroom for Damian to demand to be put down so he could run around the room and explore. “Stay with him, Dick,” he said as he looked around to start greeting the early guests, “I want him with one of us at all times.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Dick shouted as he skipped after Damian, waving at the various people he knew as he passed.

“I regret letting him watch Spongebob,” Bruce murmured as he turned to start his rounds.

The hours went by much quicker than Bruce had anticipated. Damian had a blast, and was particularly fond of being able to eat any and all of the finger foods without having to sit at a table. He loved the live music, as well, and was photographed dancing near the band during an upbeat song.

Bruce had been the one watching him at that point, and stood to the side watching with a wide smile as he danced, eventually joined by Dick. Bruce actually asked one of the reporters if they could send him a copy.

But even if he was having fun, Damian lost steam sometime in the third hour. Bruce was chatting with the commissioner about the upcoming policeman’s ball when he heard Dick and Damian’s voices chorusing the word “Dad” from across the room.

“Will you excuse me,” he asked Gordon, offering an apologetic smile as he broke away to find the source of the hollering.

His two boys were walking across the ballroom, Damian sitting on Dick’s shoulders as they both called out for Bruce. Dick clearly ‘helping’ Damian find Bruce, and not the other way around.

Damian bounced as soon as Bruce came into view, and Bruce had to move quickly to catch him from toppling himself and Dick over when he tried to dive for Bruce.

“Have you been crying, bud?” he asked, wiping Damian’s face with his handkerchief, “what’s that about?”

“He wants his dad,” Dick said, bouncing next to Bruce, with his hands in his pockets.

“How much sugar have you had, chum?” Bruce asked absently as he combed Damian’s hair back, trying in vain to fix it from the ruffled mess the night had turned it into.

“None,” Dick said, far too defensively to be true. When Bruce raised an eyebrow, he amended, “Okay fine, like five cookies. Not much…. And some cake.”

“You haven’t fed Damian any sugar, right?”

“Of course not!”

Said child wrapped his arms around Bruce and laid his head against his shoulder, so Bruce figured it was bedtime. “Okay. Are you okay staying in here while I put Damian down?” he asked, looking around to see who all was still in the room.

“Yep!”

“Make sure Alfred or Selina knows where you are at all times, okay? And no more sugar.”

Bruce slipped out of the ballroom and into the family wing of the manor.

It was peaceful there, far away from the sounds of the party. Just him and Damian, ready to wind down for what would surely be a good nights rest for Damian.

“We’re going to skip bath tonight, okay?” he said as he started to undress Damian, “We’ll have an extra long one tomorrow with lots of bubbles, sound good?”

“Duck,” Damian said, referring to his toy duck he favored in the tub.

“Yep, we’ll see Duck tomorrow.”

“Cow,” Damian asked, making a grabby hand for Bruce as he finished changing Damian’s diaper.

“In a second. Let’s get you dressed first.”

Damian settled down against Bruce contentedly when he sat in the rocking chair with one of the dozens of books they’d collected over the months. Lately Bruce had been working through Dr. Seuss with Damian, so he grabbed the next on the shelf and started reading.

“ _Oh the places you’ll go,”_ he said softly, letting Damian burrow in a little more as he shifted to watch the pages and listen to Bruce’s voice, Cow adequately snugged against his body and his pacifier in his mouth, “ _Today is your day, you’re off to great places….”_

They hadn’t even reached halfway through the book before Damian was out, softly snoring against Bruce’s chest. But Bruce wasn’t ready to put him down and rejoin the party, so he kept reading, slowly rocking them as he did, his cheek resting in Damian’s hair.

Honestly, these were the moments he lived for. The things he was most grateful for. He knew in years to come he’d look back at these sweet moments and smile.

Because that’s all he could do now, smile.  There wasn't a single thing about the moment that Bruce disliked.

“ _Kid, you’ll move mountains,_ ” he whispered, planting a kiss in Damian’s hair as he did, “ _So, today is your day. Your mountain is waiting. Go on your way._ ”

Damian shifted when Bruce shut the book, but didn’t wake as Bruce carefully transferred him to the crib.

“Night, night, buddy,” he whispered as he gave Damian one last kiss, “I love you.”

Bruce took his sweet time making sure his hair and suit were presentable enough still to go back downstairs, and eventually made it back into the ballroom to find Dick chatting it up with the commissioner and Selina.

“She’d probably love the library here,” Dick was saying, just as bright and excited as he had been an hour before when Bruce left him, “you guys could totally come over whenever you want.”

“I’m sure Babs would,” Jim said, not at all hiding the amusement he had in Dick’s enthusiasm.

“Barbara Gordon is in high school,” Bruce said mildly as he put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, “she’s too old for you.”

Dick look scandalized and quickly snapped, “I don’t have a crush on her!” convincing absolutely no one. It was widely known Dick Grayson was crushing on Barbara Gordon, actually.

When Bruce just laughed, as loud and jolly as was expected from Playboy Bruce Wayne, Dick kicked at his leg and said, “You’re so mean.”

“Hey,” Bruce said, grinning as Dick ran off, looking back every few steps to see if Bruce was following him.

Bruce chased him for a minute before he caught up, catching Dick by the waist and hoisting him in the air, eliciting giggles from the boy as he did.

“Bruce, stop,” he said, still laughing at Bruce tickled at him, “I’m serious let me go.”

“Nah,” he said as he threw Dick over his shoulder and went to find Selina, “I think it’s about time you go to bed, anyway.”

“No,” Dick whined, collapsing against Bruce dramatically, “it’s not that late. I’m not tired.”

“That’s because you ate too much sugar.”

“Dad,” Dick whined playfully, then abruptly cut himself off to say, “Bruce. I said Bruce.”

The warmth in his chest just grew, at that little slip.

They should have galas more often, if all of them were going to be this fun _._ Bruce had never once enjoyed galas in his life, but with two boys to entertain him like this? They were downright amazing.

Perhaps it was the fact he could be seen publicly as a family man, rather than having to pretend to flirt with every girl he saw, that helped make the night more enjoyable.

“No you didn’t,” Bruce said, dropping Dick back on his feet.

Just as the boy tried to run off again, he caught him by the waist and was about to tickle at him again when a vase six feet to his right exploded.

And the elation he felt completely vanished as he laser focused on assessing his surroundings.

Bruce’s blood ran cold, even as he grabbed Dick by his jacket and pulled him behind the nearest table, using his own body to shield Dick as best he could, unsure of where, exactly, the gunmen were.

Screams erupted around him as everyone seemed to catch up to what was happening, and the gunfire continued, accompanied by the sound of various glass objects being hit.

“What’s happening,” Dick whispered, trying to poke his head out from around the table to look.

Snatching Dick back, Bruce ended up laying on top of him, partly to protect him and partly to keep him _still._ Because Bruce needed to think without the heart attack Dick was inducing.

“Get off me,” Dick whispered harshly, “I can’t move.”

“Hush,” Bruce said, watching as Jim Gordon slipped from the credenza he was using as a cover to the table Bruce was using.

“I’m counting seven,” Gordon said, his gun drawn as the men started shouting for everyone to take out their wallets and off their jewelry.

“Where’s my security,” Bruce snapped, as he listened to the thugs make their way around the room.

“I didn’t see them,” Gordon replied.

“Bruce,” Dick whispered, “we can-”

“Be quiet,” he hissed back. Because he knew exactly where Dick was going with that, and even if he was 98% certain Gordon knew exactly who he was, that didn’t mean either of them were about to admit that to each other. Plausible deniability, after all. If asked, Gordon could easily say he came over to protect the only kid in the room, not because Bruce was Batman and he needed back up.

Not that anyone was going to make that connection, anyway. Since Bruce was about to play the dumb victim.

God he hated this part of it all.

“Where is Selina,” he said, craning his neck to try and see the others hiding behind various pieces of furniture.

“She’s over with the Andersons,” Gordon said.

Bruce pulled his phone out and checked the Manor’s security system. That’s when he realized the alarms hadn’t been tripped at all. Sure, the system wasn’t as highly set as usual, but it should have reacted to an unidentified vehicle entering the property. If nothing else, the gunshots should be setting off so many sensors.

“Bruce?” Dick asked, looking at Bruce’s phone with him, “what does that mean?”

“Damian,” Bruce breathed, “I have to check on-”

Gordon latched onto Bruce’s sleeve as he tried to get up. “Bruce. You can’t disappear.”

“My son,” he whispered harshly, “he’s upstairs alone.”

“These are just fortune seekers, not kidnappers.”

Lamenting in his inability to do anything, Bruce shifted and listened for where the thugs were. Two of them were about 30 feet to his left, shaking down the people there, while another few were twice as far to his right, doing the same. The remaining must be standing further back, keeping watch.

“You’re crushing me,” Dick whined, wiggling under Bruce.

Bruce shifted more of his weight to his forearms and knees, trying to rectify that some as he murmured, “Sorry.”

“They might be using this as a distraction to snatch Damian,” Bruce pointed out after another minute had passed.

“This is quite the elaborate scheme just for a kidnapping, Bruce. He’s fine. Besides, my men are almost here.”

Huffing, Bruce resigned himself to waiting it out. Hating himself for not being able to check. For not having more security. For having this gala at all with his boys around.   

“Bruce Wayne,” a smug voice sneered as the footsteps approached the table they were behind, “and little Richard Wayne.”

“It’s _Grayson,”_ Dick snapped, trying to wiggle out from under Bruce, who just dropped a bit more of his weight on Dick to keep that from happening.

“Adorable. Hand over that watch and I won’t make the boy an orphan again.”

Holding back the urge to deck the guy, to knock him out cold with just a fist to the head for even _thinking_ about making such a horrible comment, Bruce unsnapped the watch and tossed it up at the man, a bit forcefully.

“What’s with the attitude, Wayne?” the thug sneered, kneeling down to get right in Bruce’s face, pulling a gun out as he did.

Gordon instantly rose to his feet, his own gun now trained at the thug as he said, “Put the gun down.”

And Bruce took that to mean Gordon’s backup had arrived. Because if he had been laying low, quite literally, up until that point but chose now of all moments to make himself known, it must have been because he was no longer alone. No longer alone with a Batman who couldn’t _be_ Batman.

Bruce leaned forward further on Dick, fully covering his head now, much to the boy's protests.  

After that, everything went by in a blur. It lasted about another 15 seconds as the room was suddenly flooded with SWAT teams, rifles each finding targets among the seven men.

Bruce had expected a fight. A firefight or a stand off or something. Instead, though, all seven men surrendered in unison.

Nothing had ever filled Bruce with dread more than that. Than realizing that this _was_ just a diversion. Because why else would they all have just surrendered? If they were truly there to rob the place and make out with millions, why give up so easy? Usually criminals wanted to succeed. Not quit at the first given opportunity.

Bruce had only one explanation.

“Damian,” he said hoarsely, hopping to his feet and dragging Dick to his, just before he broke out into a sprint toward Damian’s room, Dick following close behind. Mostly because Bruce had pulled his arm for the first few steps, effectively telling him to follow.

“Bruce,” Gordon called after, “wait for- dammit!”

He could hear Gordon’s heavy footsteps behind him as he rushed up the stairs and rounded the corner. Hear his own heartbeat in his chest. Feel the adrenaline coarse through his body.

Damian was _fine,_ he told himself. Still asleep in his crib. Bruce would throw open the door and Damian would jump, startled awake by the noise. He’d probably cry for a minute, then demand to be held the rest of the night. And Bruce would hold him. Bruce would hold him tight and not want to let go even for breakfast.

He had to be fine. Because if he wasn’t, Bruce wasn’t sure what he’d do with himself. Wasn’t sure how he’d ever forgive himself for not protecting him. For letting him slip right through his fingers.

Bruce finally reached Damian’s bedroom door, and didn’t hesitate for a second as he turned the knob and threw it open.

Dick came crashing to a stop, running straight into Bruce, who had frozen solid.

Gordon was just behind them and pushed his way into the room, past Bruce and Dick, then let out a loud string of expletives as he did.

Because Damian didn’t jump.

He didn’t start crying.

Damian did nothing.

Because the crib, in the center of the room, was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not proofed. Like at all. I finished it at 2am and was like THATS IT IM DONE PUBLISH IT. So I am so terribly sorry if it sucked. I will do a read through tomorrow sometime and probably die from embarrassment before fixing it. 
> 
> When I did the original research for this story I couldn't find a birthday for Dick. Admittedly, I didn't look hard. Now it's come to my attention that DC has said both November 11 and March 21. Neither of those work for what I've already written, so I'm throwing away canon completely and saying his birthday is in July. I love fanfiction. 
> 
> Also. So sorry for that cliff hanger. After going off on how much I hate cliff hangers, I went and did that. Please forgive. <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 04/02/19 9:45pm EDT: I did a revision of this chapter. A couple details changed, the most significant being how long Damian's been missing. The middle scene, between Bruce and Selina, also changed quite a bit, but nothing major there. Small details.

The trail had gone cold.

It had been over 24 hours since Damian was kidnapped, and the trail was cold. 

Bruce had no proof that Talia and her men were the ones who took Damian. The seven gunmen weren’t talking, and each had all the appropriate documents suggesting they had been living in Gotham for their entire lives, not off with the League of Assassins. 

But who else would have done it? 

Gotham City PD were on the case, of course. The downside of having Gordon there to witness the entire affair. 

They were dutifully checking out every domestic lead they thought they were coming up with. Bruce had already exhausted every avenue and determined all of them to be false, and continuing down the path of a domestic group snatching Damian was just a waste of time. But it was keeping the GCPD busy and out of Bruce’s hair. He only kind of felt bad about that.

Gordon had been pretty good at letting Bruce get away fairly quickly after discovering Damian missing, even as the police continued to scour the house for clues. Bruce had had to start his investigation from his tablet in the study, but after a couple hours, the police left and he’d been in the cave ever since. 

Somehow, they were managing to keep it out of the media. So far. Bruce just knew it was a matter of _when_ one of the officers let in on the case leaked it to the media, rather than _if._ No matter how trustworthy Gordon felt his men were.

There had been a discussion about issuing an Amber Alert, but it was decided that doing so might put Damian in more danger. If all the crooks in the city were made aware that the son of billionaire Bruce Wayne was up for grabs, it could just lead to a fight over which crook got Damian.

Bruce knew, of course, that some random thug in Gotham didn’t have Damian. Using the Amber Alert system, then, would just be a waste of time for all the good citizens of Gotham and take away attention from other children currently missing.

Besides, what good would an Amber Alert do when the child had been whisked off to another country entirely? One not likely to have an extradition treaty with the United States?

Alfred was upstairs cleaning up after the party, despite everything already looking immaculate, his way of coping, and Dick was curled up in the chair next to Bruce, fast asleep. 

And Bruce… Bruce was now just staring at Cow, who was sitting on the desk next to him. 

How could they have left Cow behind? Damian slept with the stupid little toy clutched to his chest. To leave him behind meant someone had to take it from Damian. 

It was probably dumb, but the idea that someone had picked up Damian and forcefully removed his beloved stuffed animal from his arms was what set Bruce over the edge into rage. How _dare_ Talia put his boy through such a traumatic event and not even let him have a modicum of comfort during it. What was the honest harm in letting him keep a ridiculous stuffed cow?

The image of Damian waking up to strangers in his room was bad enough. But that damn Cow. 

“Bruce?” Dick mumbled, sitting up in the chair after being startled awake by the keyboard flying off the desk, “Did you find him?”

“No,” Bruce growled, now pacing behind the desk, “It had to be Talia. No one else makes sense.” 

“Occam’s razor,” Dick said, sitting up properly now as he rubbed at his eyes. 

Nodding, Bruce picked Cow up off the desk and looked at it. “No one else would be able to get past our security, either. And cover their tracks so easily.” 

“So where do you think they took him? We can suit up and bring him back.” 

That was the real question, wasn’t it? Batman and Robin had already scoured the city, checking out every known League hideout. There hadn’t been a trace of Damian. It’s like he just vanished as soon as Talia’s people pulled him from his crib. Just went poof, straight out of the city. Right out of the country.

Bruce looked back at the computer screens, at the map he had pulled up of the Indian Ocean. He was fairly certain the League was currently using Infinity Island as their main base. It made the most sense to use it as the hiding place for Talia and Damian. 

Well maintained, easy to defend, with strictly controlled access. Invading Infinity Island to take back Damian, who was likely being defended by hundreds of assassins, was going to be difficult. And it was certainly not something he wanted Dick anywhere near.

“Dick, I need-”

“No,” Dick shouted, throwing the blanket off Bruce had retrieved a few hours before as he sprung to his feet to confront Bruce head on. All four feet ten inches of him. “You can’t take me off this case.”

“Dick-”

“No,” he cried, grabbing onto Bruce’s shirt and shaking, only succeeded at moving the shirt, not Bruce himself, “I- I have to help. You have to let me help. He’s my brother, Bruce. I have to-”

“Dick,” Bruce said again, gently grasping Dick’s wrists in his hands as he knelt down to the boy’s height, “This is dangerous. I-”

“Everything we do is dangerous,” Dick said, half-heartedly scowling at Bruce as he clearly tried to keep himself from bursting into tears, “You let me help you search Gotham.”

“I know,” Bruce said, as softly as he could as he pat at Dick’s shoulder, “but I can’t have you with me on this mission. Not at their main base. I need you somewhere safe, so I don’t have to worry about you.”

“But I can stay-”

“Dick, I can’t… lose…” both of you, Bruce thought, now fighting tears himself. This would be easier if he were in uniform. Easier to shut down Bruce’s emotions and just order Robin to stay in. 

The mere idea of losing both Dick and Damian in the same night was enough to destroy him. He already wasn’t sure what he would do without getting Damian back. If he were to lose Dick in the quest to retrieve him… Well. There’d be no coming back from that.

Bruce couldn’t think of a fate worse than witnessing his son’s death. 

“You can’t go alone,” Dick said, clearly following Bruce’s train of thought, “I won’t let you go alone.” 

“Dick….” Bruce said, picking at a loose thread on Dick’s shoulder, refusing to look back at his face and allow him to read his thoughts. Refusing to look at the emotions in his son himself. 

“Take Clark. Take the Justice League! They’d want to help you with this.” 

Bruce raised his eyes back to find Dick glaring at him with so much determination it was staggering. “I would have to tell them-”

“Yes! Do it.” Dick shrieked, “They’re your friends. They’ll want to help.” 

Maybe if he brought the case to them as one Batman needed help on. One he was only taking because it dealt with the League of Assassins and a Gotham child, not because it was personal, he could avoid the whole tell-them-everything part. Who wouldn’t want to rescue an innocent child from the League of Assassins? 

“Okay,” Bruce said, patting Dick’s shoulder again before he stood. 

“You’ll take the League?”

Instead of answer, Bruce pulled up the League communication software on the Batcomputer and scheduled an emergency meeting for 6 am. Which meant he had a little under 2 hours to prepare everything he needed for the briefing. 

“Why don’t you go on to bed, Dick. It’s been a long day and you need sleep.” 

Dick frowned for a moment before saying, “Don’t leave without saying good-bye.”

“Come here,” Bruce said, holding an arm out for Dick, “I don’t want to wake you later.”

“Bring him back,” Dick mumbled into Bruce’s chest as he collapsed into Bruce’s hug, “He belongs with us.”

“I will,” Bruce promised, placing a kiss in Dick’s hair before letting go, “now off to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow with Damian.”

And Bruce didn’t feel bad about making such a promise to Dick. Because as far as he was concerned, failure was not an option. Come this time tomorrow, Damian would be back home with them, safe and sound, Cow rightly back in his arms. 

\- - -

As Bruce was finishing the final touches on his power point, with about half an hour to spare before the meeting, Selina slinked into the cave, fully dressed in her Catwoman uniform. 

She had hung around most the day, keeping mainly Alfred company, but had disappeared before dinner with the excuse that her cats needed to be fed. Bruce wasn’t expecting to see her again while Damian was still missing. Not because she didn’t care about Damian, but perhaps because the opposite was true. And being in the house where the boisterous child usually roamed the halls was difficult without him there. 

And, Bruce had no doubts he was difficult to be around in such a state. It’d be delusional of him not to admit being shaken by the abduction of his infant son. Bruce didn’t do well with emotions, so he’d be told. 

“So, where is he?” she said as she reached the computer and wrapped her arms around Bruce’s neck, who had been ignoring her presence to keep working on the brief. 

“Infinity Island,” he grunted as he attached the last few pictures and screenshots necessary and saved his work the Watchtower server.

“Hmm, well I’ve been wanting you to take me to a tropical island for a while.”

That finally caused Bruce to look up from the screen and at Selina, whose face was more determination than flirt than he’d ever seen in his life. Maybe she _had_ just gone to feed her cats.

“If you think I’m not coming with you to confront your crazy baby mama, you’ve-”

“You’ll have to come up to the Watchtower,” Bruce interrupted with as close to a smirk as he could muster under the current circumstances, “and meet all the ‘goody-goodies’ of the League.”

Selina sighed dramatically as she leaned more of her weight onto Bruce, “If that’s what it takes to get your little kitten back.”

“Code names only. Only Superman and Martian Manhunter know who I am,” Bruce said, closing out everything on the computer before he stood, “I need to get changed, then we’ll leave.”

\- - -

They arrived fifteen minutes early for the meeting, and were, unsurprisingly, the first ones there. Martian Manhunter was somewhere on the Watchtower, Bruce knew, but he hadn’t made his way to the meeting room yet. 

As Bruce went about setting up his briefing, Selina found his chair at the table and fell down into it dramatically, throwing her legs up over the armchair. 

She ran her hand over the bat symbol on the headrest for a moment before shifting a little. “You know,” she said, looking around the room before fixing her eyes back on the bat symbol, “most girls borrow their boyfriend’s jackets. I get to borrow his chair at the Justice League’s table.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her, that he was sure she could see despite the cowl blocking it from _actually_ being visible. 

“Perks. It almost makes it worth it to deal with you.”

Biting down on all the comments Bruce had about the ‘boyfriend’ statement, he went back to preparing. Now wasn’t the time to tease her for letting that slip. While he agreed with the ‘let’s not put terms on this relationship,’ she was the only who had actually been vocal about it. It was funny _she_ was the one to break that agreement first, but he really didn’t have the emotional energy, at the moment, to comment. 

Flash was the first to arrive, to Bruce’s complete surprise. 

“Hey Bats, what’s the emergency? I asked Superman but he didn’t know and if he doesn’t know that means either it’s really serious or it happened so suddenly you didn’t even tell him and-” Flash paused and turned to Selina, pointing his finger at her, “Who are you?”

“Excellent situational awareness,” Batman said dryly, all but rolling his eyes as Selina sat up and grinned, “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.”

“I was just going to say,” Selina said defensively, shooting Bruce a glare, “I’m here to help with the mission.”

“You’re Catwoman,” Barry said, taking his seat at the table, “Aren’t you a thief?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Right,” Flash said slowly, narrowing his eyes for a second before shrugging and turning back to Batman, “So, Bats?”

“I’ll brief you all as a group,” Batman said shortly, returning his attention back to the computer he was setting up. 

One by one, the Leaguers arrived, several of them questioning the presence of Selina, but none outright objecting to her being there. Clark simply raised an eyebrow toward Bruce when he saw her and took his seat quietly. 

“Aquaman has informed me he will not be in attendance,” Martian Manhunter said as he entered, “There is a situation he has to deal with in Atlantis.” 

Batman nodded in acknowledgement and watched as Green Arrow finally walked in, the last to arrive.

“You east coast people have no respect for the pacific time zone,” he mumbled as he passed Batman to take his own seat, “it’s 3 AM, Batman. Three.” 

“Were you asleep?” Batman asked as he pressed start on his powerpoint and turned to face all seven of them. 

“That is not the point.” 

“Batman?” Clark said hesitantly, staring up at the picture of Damian Bruce chose as the first slide, “What’s going on?”

With a deep breath, Batman started his spiel. “On Friday, at approximately 10pm Eastern Standard Time, this child was kidnapped from his crib by the League of Assassins.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Clark said, nearly standing but obviously catching himself before he did so, “I could have helped.”

“I’m telling you now,” Batman said dismissively, clicking to the next slide.

“What do the League of Assassins want with a baby,” Wonder Woman asked. 

“That’s Bruce Wayne’s boy, isn’t it?” Oliver said, looking between Clark and Bruce as he did, “Why would the Assassins want _him_ specifically.”

“I have reason to believe they wish to train him to be an assassin.” 

“That makes no sense. Why Wayne’s kid?” Oliver challenged, getting nods from Flash and Green Lantern, “Who would look at Bruce Wayne’s kid and think ‘yes he would make a good assassin.’”

“Wait,” Hal said, pointing at the screen, where a picture of Talia was currently displayed, “Is that the person behind this all?”

Sighing, Batman said, “If you all would let me-”

“She looks like she could be the kid’s mom,” Flash said, “Same eyes. Similar nose. Same complexion.” 

“That would make sense, no one knows who that kid’s mom is. Wayne hasn’t told anyone and it’s clearly not his girlfriend’s. She’s white and the kid isn’t.”

“How would some rich guy come into contact with Talia al Ghul, though?” Hal asked, just devolving the three of them into a bickering match about how corrupt and diabolical rich people could be without hinting at it in their public lives. 

Bruce found a spot up on the ceiling to glare at while he waited for the table to come back under control. Clark gave him a sympathetic look and J’onn was pointedly not looking at him. When Selina reached out and grabbed his hand to squeeze it, Bruce closed his eyes to take a deep breath, then returned his attention to the table.

“Enough. None of this is important.”

“But is it true, Batman?” Wonder Woman asked, “Is this a custody dispute?”

“Of a sort, yes, but-”

“Oh no, no way,” Hal said, standing, “I’m not getting involved in this. This is like, a government thing or something. Courts. To decide who gets the kid. Does Wayne have official custody? Are we just kidnapping, too?”

“This baby was stolen from his _crib_ while his dad was being held at gunpoint downstairs,” Catwoman said, sitting up to face the entire League, “And the fact that the League of Assassins did it makes it even more concerning. Can you honestly sit there and let that child be raised as an assassin knowing you could have done something to stop it?”

“How do we know Wayne’s going to be any better?” Hal challenged.

“He’s got an older boy,” Oliver piped in, “Sweet kid. Besides, I’ve known Wayne for years. I don’t know how on earth he got tangled up with the al Ghuls, but I don’t see it in him to be a closeted super villain.”

“If we do not rescue Damian today, “Clark said, finally speaking up, “I have a feeling we will one day face him in battle. I, for one, will not be responsible for that. Batman, I will help you get him back.”

“Agreed,” Wonder Woman said, causing most of the rest of the group to nod. 

“Fine,” Hal huffed after taking a deep breath, and flung himself back at his chair, “Then how are we doing this?”

Letting out some of the tension that had built in his shoulders, Batman dove into his plan for infiltrating Infinity Island. With the absence of Aquaman, he had to alter it slightly, but he was confident in their ability to succeed. 

After the meeting, when everyone else was going to prepare for the flight to Infinity Island, Selina followed Bruce to where the jet was stored. 

“You know, if you just _told_ them, that would have been a lot easier,” she said, falling in step at Bruce’s side as he walked. 

“It worked out,” he replied gruffly. 

“Seriously. Four simple words would have gotten them all on your side from the start. ‘This is my son.’ Or, ‘I am-’”

“ _Cat_.”

“Bat,” she said, matching his harsh tone, “you’re ridiculous. Why don’t they know?”

Bruce paused as they reached the hangar before he typed the code in, commanding the security system to let Selina into the area. He’d been toying with the idea of coming out to the League a lot recently, but it was a big step.

What was the point of a secret identity if he shared it willy nilly? Bruce understood the super-powered people in the League having no problem with sharing. It was easier for them to protect themselves. To protect their families. Not that Bruce _couldn’t,_ he just had to admit, he couldn’t run at the speed of sound and take his sons to safety before the villain could even blink. 

How Oliver Queen had felt comfortable enough sharing his identity, Bruce wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the lack of children. 

“You’re scared of them?” she asked, setting a hand on his arm as he finished typing at the touchpad and opened the door. 

“No.”

“Then…? What is it?”

Bruce started doing his preflight checks on the jet, insuring it had been properly fueled and there were no error codes reading out. After a minute, he finally said, slowly and quietly, “I…can’t fly.”

“Okay? I mean, that’s kind of debatable, but let’s go with that.” 

“If you get thrown off a building, I can’t catch you.”

“Also debatable,” she said, “plus I could catch myself.”

“Lois Lane gets thrown off buildings once a week, it seems.”

“Exaggeration, besides the world knows there’s a connection between _Superman_ and Lois Lane. So you can’t really compare it.” 

“There’s a connection between Batman and Catwoman.”

“Suggest I’m a damsel in distress again,” she said, a playful bite to her voice as she climbed up into the jet after him so he could start his preflight checks on the instruments inside, “Bruce. I can protect myself. Dick can protect himself. Hell, Alfred can protect himself, and-”

“Damian can’t.” 

“But that’s not even what we’re talking about. I’m not suggesting we go tell the Penguin or Joker your name. This is the Justice League. If you don’t trust _them…”_

“I do trust them,” Bruce cut in, “I trust them with my life.”

“But not with your family?”

“Exactly.” 

“Then why did you come to them for help with this?” she asked, just as the hangar door opened again to let Wonder Woman and Superman in, effectively ending their conversation. 

They fell into a comfortable silence as Bruce finished checking over the jet and prepping it for takeoff. Selina fastened herself into the seat Clark usually used, much to his amusement when Clark walked in and sighed. 

“I’ll sit in Aquaman’s seat, I guess,” Clark mumbled, walking past Selina to stand behind Bruce for a moment. 

“We’ll find him,” Clark mumbled, quiet enough that Diana couldn’t hear them from where she was standing outside, doing her own preflight checks. Placing his hand on Bruce’s shoulder, Clark continued, “And Bruce? Your boys are like nephews to me. Had you told me last night, I would have come in an instant.”

“I know.”

And that right there was probably _why_ Bruce had been so quick to accept the idea of going to the League for help. He knew they would. While he hadn’t been expecting the argument that took place, he knew at the end of the day, they would all risk their lives to protect an innocent child. It didn’t matter if the kid was Bruce’s. If the kid were _Batman’s._ He was an innocent and that’s what they stood for. Protecting the innocent. 

As the rest of the League made it on the jet and fastened themselves in, Bruce felt a sense of peace settle over him. Because he knew, without a doubt, that they were going to bring his son back with them. Each and every person on that jet were putting Damian’s life above their own, and with their combined effort, there was no way they would fail. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're officially at 16 chapters! How exciting(ly annoying). I was long winded with the League Meeting and the Dick Scene and got like nothing accomplished this chapter I wanted to get accomplished. So yay additional chapter! Remember when I was saying this would be like 10 chapters and 20k words? Oh, those were the days. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :D I'm having a blast writing this story, so thank you for coming along on the journey with me. <3


	14. Chapter 14

They decided to split up. Infinity Island was relatively large, and with hundreds of assassins living on it, it was probably best to get in and out as fast as possible. The plan was, as soon as Damian was found and retrieved, it would be announced over comms and everyone would retreat.

Batman knew Infinity Island. He’d been before, of course, so he had a pretty good idea of where Talia and Damian would be. The only problem was, it was likely heavily guarded by assassins.

The League was probably expecting them. Or expecting Batman, at the very least, so it was unlikely that the private family wing of the compound was anything less than fully guarded. It’s what Batman would do, if he were the one trying to keep the Justice League from finding Damian.

And either Ra’s knew what he was doing, or the building was just so old that lead paint was used on all the walls. Bad for babies. Good for keeping rooms private from Superman’s prying eyes. So Clark was useless in trying to easily locate Damian.

Flash, Catwoman, and Batman were the ones to search the halls of the family wing. Superman and Green Arrow took to the roofs, in attempt to stave off any assassins following. Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, and Green Lantern took the other side of the compound, just in case Damian was stashed somewhere else.

And so they searched. While they quietly stalked down the halls, Flash would open a door and check the entire room, using his speed to close it back again before it was noticed. It was on the fifth room they checked, without seeing a single assassin, that Bruce started to get nervous.

He knew there wasn’t _no one_ around. Superman and Martian Manhunter had confirmed about 800 people on the island when they landed. And yet, despite that, none of them had been in their path.

“Maybe she expected we’d check here,” Catwoman whispered, “and so they abandoned this side of the compound.”

“Hrn,” Batman grunted, pausing in their trek down the hall so Flash could check another room. He knew that there were three more rooms in this hall, and then it turned in a 90º angle to the left, where there were four more rooms and then Ra’s quarters, right at the end.

Batman really hoped Damian was in a room before that one, because the thought of his little boy being with _Ra’s_ made him want to be sick. Or punch something.

Actually, punching Ra’s Al Ghul would be nice.

But apparently, he wouldn’t have to punch Ra’s. Yet.

“Here,” Flash said, standing in the suddenly open second to last door in the hall, motioning for Batman and Catwoman to enter the room, “the baby is in here.”

Bruce sucked in a deep breath, and had to force himself to take measured steps. Outright running for Damian was undignified, and he needed to pay attention to his surroundings. Make sure he did not get tunnel vision and focus solely on Damian. A real danger, he knew. Because all he wanted to do was hug onto Damian and sit with him. For hours. Forever.

The light leaking in from the hall was just enough to illuminate Damian’s face. Red and splotchy from recent crying as he sat in the crib, miserably looking up at the three of them approach.

It broke Bruce, just a little more, to see. The last time Damian had looked so miserable, he’d been sick. And angry with Dick for playing with _his_ train set, because how dare Dick think he could touch Damian’s stuff. _Those_ were the sorts of things babies should be crying about. Not kidnapping. Not being whisked away to strange locations without warning.

“No,” Damian whimpered, sniffling as he rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. The fear on his little boy’s face was enough to destroy Bruce. To set him on a war path for Talia. Because why was no one comforting his little boy while he cried in the dark? Why was no one trying to relieve him of his fears and calm him down?

“Hey,” Bruce whispered, dropping out of his Batman gravel completely, trying his best to sooth Damian. The little boy had only pushed himself further back against the bars of his crib, terrified of the three masked individuals in front of him.

It’d been nearly a year since Damian last saw him in the batsuit. That first night, when they first met, actually. They had decided to keep the secret from him, at least for the first several years. Until he was old enough to keep secrets. Bruce hadn’t even taken him back down to the cave since making that decision, about eight months prior.

So it was no surprise he didn’t recognize Bruce.

“Don’t cry, little guy,” Flash said, already leaning over the crib, offering Damian a gentle smile, “We’re the good guys.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Bruce said, a little louder, in his normal voice as he finished approaching the crib, “You’re okay.”

Damian sniffed, looking up at Flash, then back over at Batman. “Dad,” he said, tentatively reaching out for Batman.

“We’ll bring you to your dad,” Flash said, patting Damian on the head.

In response, Damian started crying again, batting away Flash’s hand.

“Hey,” Bruce repeated, gently picking Damian up with only a weary glance from the boy as a response, “Hey, buddy, you’re okay. I’m here, okay?”

“Dad,” Damian said, staring at Batman, clearly entirely confused about how his dad’s voice was coming out of Batman.

“Yeah, I’m right here. You’re okay.” Bruce gently wiped the tears off his face, then grasped Damian’s chin and turned his face, letting the light show the faint bruise that had formed on his cheek. “What happened to your cheek, buddy? Who did that?”

Instead of answer, though, Damian pulled his face away and cried out, “Dad,” as he wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck tightly, devolving into a hysteric bout of crying.

Putting his hand on Damian’s head and bouncing him a little, Bruce looked around the room. Flash was just standing there, openly gawking at Bruce, and Selina was behind him, keeping watch on the door.

These appeared to be Talia’s personal quarters, but Bruce remembered her room being closer to Ra’s. Regardless of whose room it was, though, Bruce was just glad Damian was not with Ra’s. Or Talia, actually. As mad as he was no one was comforting his scared little kid, he was glad to not have to confront them, either. Not with Damian in his arms. He wasn’t sure he could keep calm enough to comfort Damian while facing them.

“We found the kid,” Flash finally said into the comm, “he’s scared but fine.”

“ _Meet at the rendezvous point_ ,” Superman said a moment later, with the sounds of a fight in the background, “ _We’ve found where all the assassins are._ ”

“Understood,” Flash said, looking back at Bruce, who was still rocking Damian back and forth, trying to calm him.

“That makes _so much_ more sense than the story you fed us at the meeting,” Flash said conversationally, pointing at Damian, “Weird, you know. You and Talia. And you being… you. But makes sense.”

Bruce didn’t have time to respond to that, because Catwoman spoke up with a short “Bats,” that was quickly followed up with another person speaking.

“Beloved.”

Just the sound of her voice made Bruce’s veins run cold. Even as he turned to face the woman, his arms tightened around Damian, as if just her gaze could steal Damian away.

Damian’s arms tightened, too, as he started to wail a mix of the words “No” and “Dad” in Bruce’s ears.

“Shh,” Bruce soothed at the same time Catwoman hissed, “Back the fuck off,” at Talia, who took a step forward into the room.

Talia paused and just looked over at Bruce, raising her eyebrow. “I see you brought your current whore along,” she said dryly.

“Oh, honey. Jealousy is not an attractive trait.”

Before Talia could get too angered by Selina’s comments, Bruce pulled them off course and asked, in a low growl, “What did you do to him? Why is there a bruise on his _face?”_

 _“_ Beloved, do not be dramatic. You act as if I cut off a finger. He would not stop biting. I corrected the behavior.”

 _“_ By hitting him?”

Damian’s arms tightened again, and Bruce knew had he not been in the batsuit, he’d be cringing from his tiny little nails at this point. “You’re okay,” he whispered into Damian’s ear, just after planting a kiss in his hair, “Dad’ll protect you. You’re fine.”

“Clearly whatever methods you were employing were unsuccessful,” Talia said, taking a few slow steps to her left so she could sit on a chair, “He did not bite again after the correction.”

“Biting is how he defends himself,” Bruce pointed out, running a hand up and down Damian’s back, “He has never felt the need to defend himself against me. Or her,” he motioned toward Selina, “Or anyone else at home.”

Catwoman nodded, and Talia just rolled her eyes. “Yes, well. With time, he will adjust.”

At that, Bruce bristled. Because like _hell_ was there going to be ‘time’ for Damian to adjust. He was coming home with them, no doubt about it.

“Flash,” Batman said as he watched Talia pull a knife from her sleeve and start to twirl it, “Take him.”

“What?” Flash’s voice was comically high as he squeaked out the word, quickly looking between Damian and Batman.

“To the Watchtower,” Batman continued, “as fast as safely possible. There’s a bag, under the conference table. Give him the stuffed animal from it and he’ll calm. I’ll be up as soon as I can.”

“Uh,” Flash said, hesitantly reaching out as Bruce started prying Damian off him, “I don’t know-”

“Beloved,” Talia said harshly, standing to her feet.

“Flash. I trust you,” Batman said, pressing a now screaming Damian into Flash’s arms, “Protect my son. Go.”

“No,” Talia said, her voice almost pleading.

Nodding, Flash said, “Okay,” a steady sort of determination settling on his features, even as Damian started kicking and scratching at him, trying to break free.

Before Talia even finished her trek across the room, Flash was gone, and the room went silent.

“You steal him from me,” Talia cried, fiercely as she threw a knife that Batman easily dodged, “and don’t even allow me to say goodbye.”

“You stole him from _me,”_ he growled back, “I was willing to do visitation. I told you as much, and you _stole him from me.”_

“He is my son,” she snarled, stopping just a step away from Bruce, scowling up at him, “I was giving him to you, and you-”

“You were _giving_ him to me,” Bruce said in mock disbelief, glancing over at Selina, who was glaring at Talia, but staying out of it, “You kidnapped him so you could _give_ him to me?”

Talia let out a loud, annoyed breath, and abruptly turned around and stalked off, over toward a basket. She stood there, staring down at the contents, before pulling out a small stuffed bag and cradling it to her chest. “He has done nothing but cry since arriving here.”

“I imagine he was scared,” Bruce said dryly, crossing his arms.

“Father was not pleased,” she snapped, turning to glare again, “he is too soft. The work it would take to correct his behavior…”

Bruce shuddered at the thought of _what_ it would take to turn Damian, turn _any_ child, into an assassin. Damian was such a bright, bubbly, happy child with a very caring heart. Even at 20-months, it was easy to see the levels of empathy he held. The few times Bruce had taken Damian over to Selina’s, the way he held and pet at the cats…

They’d have to break him in order to ‘fix’ that. In order to turn him into a ruthless assassin child.

“So what, he’s useless, then?” Selina said, when the silence had stretched on too long, “Just like that, you’re washing your hands of him?”

Talia’s face twitched as she turned to face Selina, then addressed Bruce with a scathing, “He was to be my Alexander. But due to your coddling, he is weak. He is unfit for the destiny I had laid out ahead of him.”

“He’s just a baby, Talia,” Bruce scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Damian is perfect,” Selina said, “If anyone is unworthy, it’s you.”

After shooting a murderous look toward Selina, Talia turned back to Bruce and said, “I have convinced Father not to dispose of him. Out of respect for you, he has agreed to return Damian to you.”

“Just like that?” Bruce asked, not even masking the absolute disbelief he had in that statement. Because Ra’s wasn’t one who just let what he considered ‘his’ go. Even _if_ he ‘respected’ Bruce, it was difficult to see him ever coming to a point where he’d just hand over a child he likely looked upon as his eventual heir. Just because he _cried._

“I held my men off and allowed you to find him without trouble,” Talia continued, stroking the stuffed toy in her arms and looking away, “I sent them to face your ‘ _friends’_ so they would not interfere. No one may know I am allowing Damian to leave willingly.”

“You expect me to believe this?” Bruce said, “Your father is just ‘letting’ him go. We won’t be bothered by you or him ever again?”

“Believe what you will, I’m sure your security will be strengthened after this and getting to Damian again will be impossible.”

 _Damn straight,_ Bruce thought. The next time anyone gets near enough to Damian to snatch him will have to step over Bruce’s dead body. And, he suspected, the entire Justice League’s, too. At least those members who knew.

“Give my love this,” she said, holding the toy out for Bruce to take, “As a parting gift. It was his when he was an infant, still living here.”

Hesitantly, Bruce took the toy, already making a list of tests to perform on it before giving it to Damian. It looked innocent enough, but looks could be deceiving. Talia herself was evidence of that.

“And know, my beloved,” she said, lingering in Bruce’s space a bit too long for comfort, “he cried for you. He did not cease crying for you.”

Bruce tucked the bat into an empty belt pocket and tried not to let that thought get to him. Because the idea that Damian had spent the past 36 hours doing nothing but cry for him was too daunting a thought.

“You must leave, before my men come looking for me. Take care of my love, even if he will never be my Alexander.”

True to Talia’s word, they were allowed to escape back to the ship without any trouble. The rest of the team was not there when he and Selina arrived, so Bruce got to work starting it up and preparing it for flight again, as Selina settled back down into Clark’s chair, tugging her goggles off her face as she did.

Bruce felt himself start to relax. Just knowing Damian was up on the Watchtower with Flash was enough to let him breathe again. And with the prospect of Talia never bothering them again—not that he was actually trusting that—the world just felt so much lighter.

“So,” he said, allowing a wry smile tug at his lips as he looked back at Selina, “Damian is perfect, huh?”

“He sure is,” she replied, clearly refusing to be embarrassed by Bruce’s teasing, “he and Dick are the only reasons I even come around, you know.”

“Is that so.”

“Mhm. Only reason anyone ever puts up with you. Ask Clark, bet he’d agree.”

“What would I agree with?” Clark asked as he pushed open the door and hopped on board. Selina quickly put her goggles back down in place as the rest of the team shuffled on board.

“The only reason anyone puts up with Batman is to be around Robin.”

Clark just grinned, letting it drop as everyone poured into the ship.

“Where is the baby?” Wonder Woman said once she was on board, “I would like to hold him.”

“On the Watchtower with Flash,” Batman said, checking that door was sealed on his instrument panel before he started takeoff, “Talia showed so I sent them on ahead.”

“Ah. Then I will hold him there.”

“He’ll probably bite you,” Catwoman said, leaning back in her seat and tossing one leg up over the arm, somehow managing to sit so incredibly wrong while still fastened in, “he was fighting Flash pretty hard.”

“Well, how are we returning him to Bruce Wayne?” Green Lantern asked, “And is the League going to follow us? Do we need to keep surveillance on Wayne for the rest of the kid’s life?”

Bruce contemplated that for a second, but quickly threw it out as an option for security upgrades. The idea of letting the Justice League keep watch on him and his family indefinitely was not one he liked.

“I will bring him with me to Gotham,” he said, turning his chair so he was facing the rest of the team. The plane’s autopilot was good enough that it could take them all the way to the Watchtower and land without Bruce touching the controls again.

“And the League?” Green Arrow reiterated, “are they going to be messing with Wayne?”

“According to Talia,” Batman said slowly, his eyes landing on Superman as he spoke, “they have no more interest in Damian. They intend on leaving him be, allowing him to remain in the care of Bruce Wayne unhindered.”

“And you believe this?” Clark asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I… am not sure,” he said slowly, “She seemed genuine.”

“So,” Green Lantern interjected, “JL protection?”

“No,” Batman said, turning back around to fly the plane himself. Give himself something to focus on instead of dwelling on the hundreds of ways Talia could go back on her word, “I will keep an eye on the Waynes. If something happens I can’t handle, I will come to you again.”

“Typical,” Hal muttered.

“Thank you,” Batman finally said, after a few minutes had passed in silence, “For your assistance. I-” probably _could_ have done it without them, he realized, since Talia had purposely made it easy on him, “appreciate your willingness to help.”

“We’ll always help protect Damian, Batman,” Clark said, allowing some of the fondness Bruce knew he held for Damian to seep into his voice, “just gotta ask.”

“Or any child,” Wonder Woman piped in, “it is what we do. Protect the innocent.”

Bruce smiled, a small, faint smile that he knew none of them could see, since his back was to them. Even if Talia went back on her word, he knew all he had to do was shout for Clark and he’d be there in an instant. Summon the Justice League and they’d come barreling in, guns blazing, so to speak, all ready to protect Damian.

So even if Talia was lying, he knew she’d never get near Damian again.

And in just a few minutes, they’d be back at the tower. Bruce was about to be reunited with his son and they could put this entire hellish experience behind them. Damian would hopefully never remember this, and, most importantly, grow up. In Bruce’s care. In Gotham. Right where he belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If all goes according to plan, one more chapter and then a short Epilogue. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	15. Chapter 15

Back up on the watchtower, Bruce could hear Damian’s cries the moment he exited the hangar.

The poor kid sounded more terrified than Bruce had ever heard, screaming his little head off. Which, in retrospect, was a good thing. It meant he felt safe at the Manor. It meant Bruce had never done anything to make Damian feel scared. Or… this scared.

Well, that is, he’d never done anything until now. When he made Damian go with a complete stranger with possibly terrifying powers mere moments after being reunited with his dad after a traumatic kidnapping.

Bruce Wayne, Dad of the year material right there, Bruce thought bitterly.

It only took a moment to get down the hall and reach the threshold of the conference room, the rest of the JL hot on his heels. Likely all wanting to see the baby they’d just risked themselves for. And see why he was crying so hard… and calm him down themselves. Since Batman probably wasn’t the one most of them thought would be able to stop the tears.

When Bruce stepped into the room, he found Damian in the far back corner, and what was left of his heart broke at the sight of his terrified little boy.

Damian was backed up into a corner, trying his best to meld with the wall. He had cow clutched to his chest with one hand, the other held up to Flash in a ‘stay back’ gesture. Flash was half a dozen feet away, holding out a packet of animal crackers, trying to shush Damian and bribe him into coming closer.

As Bruce walked over, careful to make sure his footsteps were heard, Damian quieted, but looked up at Bruce with wide, still terrified eyes.

“No,” he screamed, holding his hand out to Bruce and the other members, pushing himself back harder into the wall as he started crying again.

“It’s okay, child,” Diana said, stepping past Flash and reaching out for Damian.

But Damian somehow got louder, letting out the most heart wrenching scream that stopped Diana in her tracks.

“Damian,” Bruce said, dropping his gravel again, wondering why on Earth Damian hadn’t recognized him.

Then again, it was very brightly lit in the conference room where it had been nearly dark in Talia’s quarters. Maybe Bruce had blended into the shadows too much, and Damian hadn’t gotten a good look at him. And Batman was scary looking, as many children had pointed out to him over the past few years.

Damian kept crying, but did wipe at his eyes and look over at Bruce with a very miserable expression.

Poor kid. All Bruce wanted to do was hold him, but not if it would traumatize him more.

Kneeling down on the ground, just next to Flash, Bruce held an arm out and repeated, “Come here, bud. You’re okay.”

“No,” Damian cried, pointing at the door, “Go.”

“Shh, buddy come on, you let me hold you just an hour ago.”

“Dad,” Damian started blubbering, clearly not identifying Bruce, but begging for his dad to be given back to him, “Dad Dad Dad Dad Dad.”

Without thinking, Bruce pulled down his cowl and said, “I’m right here, bud. I’m right here.”

And that was all it took. Damian’s fear melted away, right off his face as he looked at Bruce again. His crying, however, got even louder and more desperate. But it was relieved now, instead of terrified. And he ran right at Bruce, not paying any of the other adults in the room any more attention.

As soon as Damian started moving toward him, Bruce opened his arms wide, more than ready to scoop the child up and hug him tightly. To hold on and never let go.

The moment they met was one Bruce would remember forever. The ferocity and desperation at which Damian wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck filled him with both regret and warmth all at the same time.

God did he love this kid.

“Shh,” he whispered into Damian’s hair as he straightened up and sat back, lifting Damian up into the air, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Daddy’s got you.”

“Dad,” Damian said, burying his face into Bruce’s neck, Cow dangling from his hand behind Bruce’s back.

“Yes,” he whispered, kissing Damian’s cheek, “I’ve got you. I love you so much, Damian. So much.”

At the sound of Bruce’s quiet whispering, Damian quieted himself, so he could hear what Bruce was saying. His sobs turned into pathetic sniffles as Bruce kept talking.

“I’ll always come get you, buddy. No matter what. I’ll always come.”

A hand landed in Bruce’s hair and started twirling his sweaty locks. That was when Bruce realized he was just about to start crying. And even if he was going to expose his face to the Justice League, he was not going to _cry_ in front of them.

“He’s okay,” Selina whispered, kneeling down to wrap her arms around him and Damian from behind, “We got him back.”

Pressing his thumb and index finger into his eyes, Bruce took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Hey, kitten,” Selina whispered, pushing Damian’s hair back when he finally turned his face out to look at her.

“Ena,” he croaked, sniffling as he did. He held a hand out toward her, so she took it and kissed it.

“We missed you, little guy,” she said, and Bruce could hear the smile in her voice, “I think there are a couple people back home who would probably like to see you.”

Bruce nodded, taking the hint, and rubbed at his face right quick, seriously considering putting his cowl back on just to hide any hint of emotion. But in the end he figured it wouldn’t do much to help Damian. And it wouldn’t convince the League he was an emotionless robot, either.

“Dude,” Oliver said, as soon as Bruce stood and turned around, Damian still laying against Bruce, “Seriously?”

Smiling wryly, Bruce said, “Thanks for defending me.”

“I take it back now. You definitely have it in you to be a villain.”

The smile slowly faded from his face as he looked around, seeing all the various levels of shock and complete understanding on everyone’s faces.

“Thank you,” he said again, as serious as he’d ever been, “I don’t know what I’d do without him. Thank you for-”

“Of course,” Clark interrupted, “Bruce, you would have done the same for any one of us.”

Nodding, Bruce said, “I know we need to debrief, but the rest of my family is anxious to see Damian. And he’ll probably relax more if he’s back in a familiar environment,” after hesitating, he added, “But we can have our debriefing at the Manor.”

After a chorus of ‘sures’ and ‘okays,’ Bruce added, “Change into civies. There’s a no uniform in the house rule. I’ll grant you all access to the cave’s zeta. I’ll meet you there in 20, that should give you all plenty of time to-”

Bruce had to pause, because everyone but Oliver had chosen that moment to switch into their civilian ID by either spinning, or just… phasing out of their uniforms. Just like that. In the blink of an eye.

Oliver looked around, then let out a groan and said, “I hate you all,” as he started trekking down the hall to his quarters, “changing outfits fast is not a cool super power.”

“I will still need to grant you access from my end,” Bruce said, turning and walking toward the zetas, “the computer will alert you when that is done.”

 

Selina, Bruce, and Damian teleported back into the cave a moment later, just to be greeted immediately by Dick, who had been laying in the computer chair, watching cartoons up on the screen, it looked like.

“Bruce,” Dick shouted, bounding to his feet, then shouted louder, “Damian!”

Damian started wiggling in Bruce’s hold, begging to be put down on the cave floor, as soon as he saw Dick. “Di,” he yelled back, grinning widely as Bruce did set him down.

The cave had long since been ‘baby proofed.’ At least, in the sense that there were now railings to prevent any accidental falls and gates preventing anyone from accidentally stumbling down the stairs.

Even though he knew he didn’t want Damian down here until he was old enough to keep secrets, he also knew that there might come a day where he _had_ to be down here. And the safety railings also made it safer for him, Dick, and Alfred. So it was worth the effort.

At the sound of Damian’s laughter as Dick picked Damian up and spun him, Bruce mumbled, “Of course he’s your favorite.”

“Dick is everyone’s favorite,” Clark said, already having teleported down, since Bruce gave him access to the cave ages ago.

Selina gave Bruce a peck on the cheek before she went off to the locker room, probably to change. It was then that Alfred came downstairs, carrying a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of water.

“Ah, Master Bruce. It is good to see you.”

Bruce just smiled and made his way to the computer so he could go ahead and grant permission for the rest of the league to join them.

“Af,” Damian shouted, smiling wide now and bouncing as he waited for Alfred to finish coming down the stairs.

“Master Damian,” Alfred said warmly, setting the tray down on the first surface he encountered so he could bend down and give Damian a hug, “it is good to have you back, lad.”

It only took another minute for the rest of the JL to zeta into the cave, receiving a startled gasp from Dick.

And Barry, apparently. Who immediately ran around the cave repeating, “Wow,” at the various things. Especially at the dinosaur.

After that it was pretty much complete chaos as Dick excitedly bounced around, introducing himself to everyone, with Bruce’s permission, and Damian babbled on to Alfred about God even knew what. At some point, Selina came back out, wearing simple sweats, and Damian ran to her, screeching her name.

Selina lifted him up into the air and planted a kiss on his cheek, then just held him as Damian babbled at her and she randomly responded to what he was saying.

Since Damian seemed content, Dick was still enamored with meeting all his ‘heroes,’ Bruce was not jealous, and Alfred was ordering pizzas against his own tastes but by Bruce’s request, Bruce decided to take the opportunity to go change so he could lead everyone upstairs.

But as soon as it was clear Bruce was leaving the room, Damian shouted, “No. Dad,” and started fighting against Selina to be let down. Once she set him down, he ran toward Bruce, who had stopped and turned, waiting for him to come along.

“You’re not going to let me out of your sight, are you?” Bruce asked, holding his hand out for Damian to take.

Damian just smiled, took Bruce’s hand, and followed him into the changing room. Inside, he climbed up on one of the benches, set Cow down next to him happily, and just looked around.

“You’re getting so big,” Bruce said, stripping from his suit to just change straight into his sweats. He could just shower later, once Damian was otherwise occupied, “Before I know it, you’ll be as old as Dick and begging to come out, won’t you?”

Kicking his feet, Damian smiled up at Bruce, one of his hands patting at Cow’s head.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle that, buddy.”

That would definitely be something he’d have to think about. A lot. Letting Damian out in a cape. It had seemed like such a good idea when Dick was 9, but 7 years really wasn’t that much time, and it was hard to imagine this little kid in front of him being old enough to fight crime in just 7 years.

Bruce closed the locker he had pulled his clothes from and went and kneeled down in front of Damian. “I guess for now we should worry about potty training you, huh? And leave thoughts of crime fighting for the future.”

“Eat?” Damian asked, bouncing and then launching himself forward into Bruce’s arms.

Catching him and standing, Bruce asked, “Are you hungry?”

Since ‘yes’ wasn’t a word Damian had yet, he nodded his head and made the sign for ‘eat’ as they made their way out into the rest of the cave.

 

45 minutes later and Bruce found himself out on the patio, the entirety of the JL, minus Aquaman, sitting around a couple tables they’d pushed together and eating an ungodly amount of pizza.

Bruce cut up a slice for Damian, and was letting him sit on his knee and eat from the plate on the table. Bruce had his own plate in his hand, preventing Damian from trying to grab his larger slice instead of his own, bitesized pieces.

It was nice. They’d chatted about the mission, discussed it a bit, and were now just enjoying the afternoon sun.

Damian picked up a piece of pizza and turned to Bruce. Before Bruce could refuse, Damian shoved the piece of pizza into Bruce’s mouth and turned back around, content with himself.

“Thanks, bud,” Bruce said, trying not to grimace because Damian’s hands were slobbery. And it was just kind of really gross.

Babies were kind of really gross, honestly.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it.

“I have to admit,” Hal said, taking a sip of his soda, “this was not what I was expecting from you.”

With a shrug, Bruce said, “A year ago, I wasn’t expecting this from myself.”

Damian turned again, and this time, Bruce was prepared for the force fed piece of pizza. Except, Damian didn’t give it to Bruce. Instead, he pretended to feed it to Bruce, and then shoved it into his own mouth, giggling at himself before he turned back around.

In response, Bruce said, “You little brat,” and tickled Damian as he dragged him back against his chest to hug.

Damian let out a screech and squealed, “Down,” as he wiggled his way to the ground.

With a laugh, Bruce lifted him up over the armrest of the chair and set him on the ground, watching in amusement as he crawled down the three stairs and then stood back up to run after Dick, who was playing catch with Clark in the yard.

 

“I have a nephew about his age, you know,” Barry said a while later, noticing Bruce watching Dick.

“I did know.”

“Recently he replicated the expriment I did that-”

“I know,” Bruce cut in, turning to face Barry, “He has superspeed, too. “

“I think he and Dick would get along.”

Bruce glanced back at Dick for a second, then turned his gaze toward Barry as he thought. Pondered the idea. He honestly couldn’t think of a reason _not_ to allow it. Other than the obvious ‘what if we can’t trust Wally with Dick’s secret.’ But if the kid had been keeping Barry’s secret without problem, he was probably trustworthy. And Bruce _knew_ Barry wouldn’t suggest something that would possibly put anyone else in harm. Especially not a child. Especially not _Batman’s_ child.

“It would be good for Dick. To have a friend who knows both sides of him.”

Smiling, Barry said, “Same for Wally.”

“Okay. We can schedule a…..” Bruce paused and grinned, because man he never thought this word would ever come out of his mouth,“a playdate.”

 

“I think I’m going to get him a dog,” Bruce said abruptly.

As the afternoon wore on, various members of the League made their excuses and left. Each of them had cities to deal with, after all. It was down to just Barry, Clark, Diana, and Selina. Barry and Diana playing in the yard with the boys. Diana currently had Damian on her shoulders and was helping him keep away from Dick, who was trying to tag them.

It had been nice. The afternoon. It was the first time Bruce had ever had a lazy, relaxing dinner with more than one or two people over. It was definitely something he should do more often.

Alfred was quite pleased with the idea, too.

Selina snapped her focus to him and said, “Do that and we’re over.”

Bruce blinked, and took probably too long to realize she was joking. Rolling his eyes, he looked back at Clark, whom he had been speaking to, and said, “A german shepherd. One that I’ll train to protect him. That’ll make a lot of noise if someone breaks in.”

Clark nodded and said, “Good idea.”

“And I was thinking, the Daily Planet could cover every Gala I have from here on out. But only if they send a _specific_ reporter.”

All Clark did was grin.

“You can keep an ear on Damian and hear when the dog starts to bark.”

“Of course, Bruce,” Clark said, still grinning, “I probably would have started showing up to them even without an invitation.”

“Good.” Bruce had already figured as much, but knew it’d be way easier if he suggested it himself, first.

“And you know,” Clark said slowly, “you can teach them to shout my name if they’re ever in imminent danger. If it’s something so serious that there is no time, or they’re away from you or something. I’ll hear and come in an instant.”

“Superman?” Bruce questioned, trying to squash down the instant defensiveness he had at the mere idea he wouldn’t be able to protect his boys. Because obviously he can’t always be there. And Clark was good backup.

“Superman,” Clark confirmed.

“So do you think Talia is going to leave him alone?” Clark asked a minute later.

Sighing, Bruce said, “I honestly don’t know. I don’t trust Talia at all.”

Selina’s hand found its way into Bruce’s, so he smiled at her and squeezed. “I’ll amp up the security here. Have larger security forces during Galas. You’ll be here for them. They won’t get close to him again in this house.

“Good.”

 

Diana eventually left, as well, leaving just Barry and Clark. The sun was about to set, and evening was quickly turning into night.

Selina and Bruce continued sitting on the patio, just watching as Dick threw a Frisbee back and forth with Barry and Clark, Damian running between them, somehow _still_ having energy.

Man was he going to crash hard that night.

“I’m getting him a cat,” Selina abruptly said, smirking at how it made Bruce twitch.

“No you aren’t.”

“Then, I’m getting Dick a cat.”

“Please don’t,” Bruce said tiredly, rubbing at his face.

“Dick would like a cat,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Adding a dog to this family is going to be enough work. Don’t make it worse.”

Drawing circles on his leg, she said, “Alfred would probably like a cat, too.”

Bruce just stared down at at her, completely unimpressed. But after a second, it slowly morphed into a smile. She never did fail to make him smile.

But then, Damian came running toward him, a Frisbee in his hands, as he started screaming, “Up,” at Bruce.

He obeyed, hefting Damian up into his lap, getting only a grunt of annoyance from Selina, who had to sit up.

“What’s going on, buddy?” Bruce asked, curious as to why Damian immediately burrowed into Bruce’s arms.

“Bruce,” Dick yelled, “Damian stole my Frisbee and won’t give it back. Tell him to-”

“Mine,” Damian screamed back, pushing himself further into Bruce, the Frisbee between Damian’s body and Bruce’s chest.

“Oh boy. That’s a fun word to know, isn’t it, kitten?”

Sighing, Bruce pushed Damian back and pulled at the Frisbee. “That is not yours, it’s Dick's.” It took a little bit of effort, but Bruce tugged it out of Damian’s arms and tossed it back out into the yard, where Flash caught it and zipped off again.

“Noooo,” Dick whined, turning to run after, “Bruce, you were supposed to give it to _me.”_

Dick scampered off, and Bruce was left there with Selina and a pouting Damian. But Damian quickly changed focus to the pack of Oreos on the table, happily grabbing one out when Bruce pulled the package toward them.

“This is my life now, isn’t it?” Bruce mused aloud, watching as Damian made an absolute mess of the cookie and Dick started screaming at Clark about ‘being on his team’ and ’not playing fair.’

“Would you want it any different?” Selina asked, leaning back against Bruce’s arm as she ate a cookie of her own.

And looking at everyone around him. At Damian and Dick. Selina and Clark. Barry and the empty chairs left by the other leaguers, Bruce realized that for the first time in his life, for the first time since he was a little child, he could honestly classify himself as _happy_.

He was quite content with where life had him. He had two perfect sons. A family. Great friends. Life might not be _perfect,_ but it was good.

Everything was good.

“No,” he said, smiling as he ruffled Damian’s hair, “I like it.”

“You’re such a softie.” He didn’t even have to look down to know she was smiling that ridiculously gorgeous sweet smile of hers. The genuine one that she rarely offered.

Damian finished off his cookie, then turned and stood up on Bruce so he could rest his head on his shoulder and close his eyes, letting out the most dramatic little yawn ever, apparently ready to go to sleep.

Kissing the side of Damian’s face, Bruce said, “Yeah. I guess I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several things:
> 
> 1\. I usually hate putting out stuff that I feel so uneasy about, but this was so late I decided to just close my eyes and click post. I'm trusting you guys to tell me if something _really_ didn't work. :S
> 
> 2\. I created the series this belongs to. Give me a week or two to take a break from writing and really polish up my outline for the Jason-joins-the-family arc and then I'll start posting that to the series, for anyone interested in going further with this AU. The plan is to basically just see how introducing Damian early changes the bat family in the future.
> 
> 3\. One more chapter. It's an epilogue. I've been thinking of it kinda like a post-credits scene. It's got foreshadowing in it for a future arc. Fun stuff. Dunno when it'll be out, maybe I'll do Sunday or I'll post it the same day I post the first chapter of the Jason fic. Haven't decided.
> 
> 4\. [I posted what was the original version of "You can adopt me" to my Tumblr,](https://cdelphiki.tumblr.com/post/183711606292/in-for-a-penny-deleted-chapter) which had originally been from Dick's POV. I think it adds quite a bit to the exchange, since you can actually hear Dick's thoughts, even if I did change how the conversation came up quite a bit.
> 
> And of course, thanks for reading! <3


	16. Epilogue

_“I trust you know what you are doing, daughter.”_

_“Of course, Father,” she said, stroking her hand across the glass she stood before, as she watched what was inside, “He would not have left us alone otherwise.”_

_“Perhaps we should have killed it and started fresh.”_

_Her hand paused as she shut her eyes, biting back her annoyance. With a breath, she opened her eyes again and said, “He would have destroyed us.”_

_“We have lost two years because of this.”_

_“It will be worth it, Father.” Damian would have been perfect, she knew. He was_ _perfect. But her beloved had tainted him. Corrupted him with the frivolities of his laidback, carefree lifestyle. With the comforts wealth provided._

_Perhaps they could have fixed him. He was still young, his memories would not hold. But her beloved would have never stopped. He would have chased them for the rest of his life, trying to get Damian back._

_It was one of the many things she admired about him. His drive. His persistence._

_His determination._

_All qualities she had hoped Damian would inherit._

_Regardless, his training would have never been as thorough as necessary. Not with how often they would have to move him._

_This time, however._

_Talia looked in at the gestating child and smiled. “This one will work.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I make y'all wait 3 weeks for 216 words? Yes. Yes, I did. 
> 
> First chapter of the Jason fic, titled _Precedent_ will be up tomorrow!! Then we start back on weekly chapters! :D 
> 
> Thank you so much for going with me on this journey. I'm looking forward to sharing what the future of this AU holds. <3
> 
> And, as always, thanks to the amazing Kasyfairytaillover for all her help on this fic. You're the best! <3

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](https://cdelphiki.tumblr.com)


End file.
